


miserability

by copyrightings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Cigarettes, M/M, Minor Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, Panic Attacks, Post-Time Skip, Reconciliation, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, TW:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copyrightings/pseuds/copyrightings
Summary: "I guess we don't know much about each other anymore," Tadashi says smally, eyes fixed on the burning cigarette resting between his fingers."Guess so."---When Yamaguchi's company sponsors the Sendai Frogs, he attempts to become friends with Tsukishima again after they lost contact in college.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 88
Kudos: 156





	1. so how do we win?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He keeps his gaze locked on Tsukishima. It’s still nothing new. And yet, every aspect is unfamiliar.
> 
> It’s a stranger, really. 
> 
> Tadashi lowers his head. 
> 
> “Sorry,” he says. “I don’t think I’m feeling that well today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from: sick of losing soulmates by dodie
> 
> what started off as a mini twitter thread is slowly becoming a monster 
> 
> lol enjoy!

The beer that was supposed to be lukewarm slides down Tadashi’s throat hot and weighty, far too bitter for his liking. But it’s not as if he’s a beer expert or even a regular drinker or anything; it’s just that anytime he comes out drinking with his coworkers, cheap beer always seems to be the liquor of choice as businessmen don’t have the time to craft individualized expensive tastes. They throw down beer and yakitori after work and Tadashi tags along because he has only so many excuses to give. 

With loose ties and red faces, his coworkers chat lively about conversations Tadashi isn’t particularly interested in. They switch fast from the economy to sports to the awful tasks they were given that day. Tadashi idly sits, squashed in the inner booth, and drinks his too-warm beer. 

It could be worse, he supposes. At least he can try to get home soon. 

Hayato, one of Tadashi’s superiors, slams down his glass onto the table. He stands, garnering the attention of all the workers. “How… the _fuck_ am I… s’posed t’know any sports people,” he slurs, surveying over the tables. 

His coworkers nod in bitter agreement. Tadashi sips on his beer. 

The marketing team had been tasked with improving the reputation of the company. A local team, one that’d make them appear as a family friendly tech empire, Tadashi’s boss had told them (rather, he shouted at them during their last few minutes of overtime as Tadashi had tried to get out the door before his coworkers dragged him to the bar to gripe and complain). 

“I mean…” Hayato belches and runs a hand through his thinning hair, “I didn't even play sports in school! I was a… a… culture man.”

“Same!” One of his coworkers agrees. 

“I played baseball!” Another pipes in. 

Tadashi had suggested they support a baseball team. The Rakuten Eagles were a modest local team, not too good, not too bad. Perfect to improve the face of a faceless technology company. But they were endorsed by a pharmaceutical company and didn’t need more logos tacked onto their uniforms. 

Hayato takes a prolonged swig, stopping only to point at Tadashi with his beer. “Didn’t you ah…” he squints his eyes, trying to focus under the drunken haze, “didn’t you play some sorta sport?” 

“Volleyball,” Tadashi supplies against his own better judgement. He’s not too keen on offering up stories from his youth, so he attempts to cut the discussion there. “But I wasn’t very good, and I didn’t play often. My team didn’t go anywhere.” 

“Bullshit!” Hayato yells, slapping Tadashi’s back. He wants to curl away under his sweaty hand but instead gives a pressed-lip smile to not immediately retract. “I know yer ah… yer famous and all that.”

Tadashi’s eyes dart towards his coworkers. Luckily, they’re all too far gone to take Hayato’s words to heart. Damn those proud small shopkeepers and their insistence to keep Tadashi’s past alive. 

“Why not try a basketball team?” Tadashi suggests to deter the conversation as he subtly scoots away from Hayato. 

He makes a dismissive noise. “Nah, nah, you know more than anyone!” He points directly at Tadashi before turning to the rest of the group. “Certainly more than Morikatsu!”

“My basketball team went to nationals!” Morikatsu argues back, slamming his hands onto the table. 

Hayato bellows a laugh. “Sure ya did.” The workers follow his lead and fill up the bar with a cacophony of dry laughter. The waitress gives them all a wary eye as she sets down another round. 

Tadashi slips away as they indulge in their cheap beer and continue up some other idiotic conversation. His absence isn’t noticed even as Tadashi supplies the bartender with a few extra bills and heads to the door. 

He’s not nearly prepared for the blast of heat that nearly slaps him in the face. If the humidity inside the bar hadn’t been enough, the outside is little reprieve. Tadashi attempts to fan himself and loosens his tie even more, but ultimately the heat sticks with him like an unwanted parasite through his entire walk to the train station. 

It’s quiet, Tadashi notices. The families have long gone to bed and the businessmen haven’t quite flooded the streets, intoxicated enough to hide their looming depression. Tadashi only passes by the occasional young couple as they giggle and kiss under street lamps. 

Alone, he walks to the station and alone he rides on the train. And alone he steps into his apartment, greeted by only a handful of houseplants for company. 

It’s nothing new, per se. In some aspects, the solemnity is quite nice. He doesn’t need to worry about waking someone up with the sound of the coffee machine or pick up after anyone when things get left behind. All Tadashi needs to worry about is himself. He supposes he’s alright with that. 

Tadashi finally removes his tie and sets it on the kitchen counter. The apartment is quite large for one person, Tadashi absently thinks. The last time he had a roommate was back in university, but those days have long passed. Not that Tadashi needs anyone. 

No, Tadashi doesn’t need anyone at all. 

\---

“Karasuno, huh?” Suzuki questions, not even bothering to look up from his stack of papers. He’s a small man but his large desk—cluttered with spare parts, loose pages, and a mountain of paperwork—surely must be accommodating for something. 

Tadashi rocks back on his heels, careful to keep his shoulders square and arms firm at his sides. The last thing he needs is to get on Suzuki’s bad side. Hayato was one thing, only a step up from Tadashi with a poor grip on his inferiors; Suzuki was a whole other beast. He’s head of the department with a quick tongue and enough power to ruin the rest of a man’s career if he chooses. Tadashi’s seen it happen before and really isn’t interested in carrying on the tradition. 

“Yes, sir,” Tadashi responds, hoping Suzuki can’t hear the slight stutter in his words. 

“I knew you went to Sendai, since I’m the one that gave you your job after all, but I never bother looking into high schools considering it’s a waste of time,” Suzuki explains. “But I’ve also never been this desperate for a fuckin’ endorsement after we lost the Raiders so we looked into high schools. I thought Hayato was bullshitting when he said you were a sports guy because, come on, look at you, but apparently it’s true.”

“Yes, sir,” Tadashi agrees, not sure what else to say. He supposes he doesn’t look very athletic nowadays, not that he wants his boss to point it out. 

“Volleyball team?” Suzuki finally peers up, meeting Tadashi’s eyes with a firm, ugly brow. “They’re the good one right?”

Tadashi bites the inside of his cheek. “Yes, sir. Karasuno currently has a very strong boy’s volleyball team.” And then, before Suzuki can retort, he adds, “But I did not play. I was simply a part of the team.”

Suzuki drops his paper and presses a hand to his forehead. “My daughter,” he groans, “plays for her middle school team. Won’t shut the fuck up about some setter or whatever that apparently went to Karasuno. Thought maybe we could sponsor his team but turns out the guy’s in fucking _Italy._ Won’t do shit for our rep.”

Tadashi nods. He wonders how Kageyama is doing.

“And then,” Suzuki throws his hands up in frustration, “some other kid from the team plays professionally, but the guy moved to Brazil of all places! Can you believe that?”

“No, sir,” Tadashi answers. It’s honest, considering he’s still in awe that Hinata decided to go back. 

“But then I found him,” Suzuki grins devilishly. He breaks contact to start typing on one of his monitors. “I _fuckin’_ found him. The perfect athlete we can endorse who’s on a team that doesn’t have any major sponsors. _And_ my daughter knew ‘bout him, so it’s the best of both worlds. Know this guy?” 

Suzuki turns the screen around and Tadashi takes the sight in. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but the slight alterations make his breath hitch in his throat. 

Tsukishima, in his Sendai Frogs uniform, stares at the camera with little interest or even life whatsoever behind those golden eyes. His glasses are new and stylish, something that Tadashi never expected to describe him as. His hair’s much longer than it was in high school, with waves and curls settling against his forehead in uneven patterns. He’s filled out, too. After years of a low appetite, it appears he’s finally managed to eat enough to utilize the large frame he was gifted. In whole, he looks rather grown up. No longer the boy Tadashi once knew. 

Tadashi looks away from the screen and back to Suzuki. He points at Tsukishima again. 

“I know of him,” Tadashi says. He swallows harshly. Did his voice tremble? He can’t tell. 

“Enough to get us in contact?” Suzuki asks, his inflection going high. “You’re our only guy with any sort of connection to _anyone_. Pull all the strings you got.”

“I don’t know… We’re not close.”

Suzuki waves it off. “Tell you what. Get this connection for me, and I’ll make you a senior manager.” Suzuki leans back in his chair, interlocking his hands over his chest. “Promotion, raise, an office of your own? Yeah?”

Tadashi considers it. Four years of college, a year of interning, and two years of gruesome work to move up a single position. But now he has the opportunity to rapidly climb the ranks if he can have a conversation. That’s it. An adult conversation that could lead to a better life. 

Tadashi locks his jaw. “I’ll try my best.” 

Suzuki grins. 

\---

Tadashi doesn’t have Tsukishima’s phone number. He calls the Frogs’ promotional team instead. The nice lady he talks to seems very interested that a large technology company wants to sponsor the Frogs. She tells him she’ll call when she speaks with her boss. Tadashi thanks her for her time, and she insists they meet up to gauge the partnership. She says she’ll be his point of future reference on the Frogs and tells him to call her Aiko-chan. He obliges but fails to mention he already knows someone on the team. 

\---

The girlish charms Yachi possessed in high school that made Tadashi initially have a crush on her have long faded. Not that she doesn’t still have charm; she’s more so grown into herself and ditched the excessive nervousness that Tadashi related to and thought was adorable. 

It’s probably for the best that nothing more came out of that crush. It was fleeting, after all. By the time they reached their second year, Tadashi couldn’t see her as anything more than a friend. He needed that kind of sturdy friendship in his youth. 

And now, as she talks about her newest project that utilizes more creativity than Tadashi is sure he’ll possess in his lifetime, he realizes how far Yachi has come. He feels a little proud even if it wasn’t any of his doing. Yachi was always bound to grow into herself, even if it took a few years more. 

They’ve been meeting at coffee shops every few weeks ever since they started college. They went to different schools, but the semi-frequent meetings have been good for Tadashi’s social life. His coworkers may joke about his ‘secret girlfriend’ but Tadashi really doesn’t mind. 

She gives Tadashi an easy smile and takes a sip of her chai latte. Tadashi drinks his apple cider. Neither of them are big coffee drinkers. Shaky hands and all that. 

“Are you sure there isn’t anything new going on?” Yachi asks, obviously insisting on information. 

“Nothing new at all,” Tadashi confirms. He takes another sip. 

Yachi sighs and leans back into her chair. “Yamaguchi-kun, are you happy?” 

Tadashi swallows his drink. “Define happy.” 

Yachi shrugs and stirs around the milk in her drink. “Oh I don’t know…” 

She keeps her eyes firm on the table, like she’s afraid to shatter this carefully constructed bridge of friendship they’ve created. Yachi knows where the pick and prod, never asking too much about what’s actually going on in Tadashi’s life. They both know. There’s no reason to intrude. 

But Yachi flicks her eyes up with a bit of confidence, shaking the bridge.

“Fulfilled, maybe?” She suggests, lilting her voice. 

Tadashi clenches his jaw. “I mean, I’m doing well at my job. I have friends. Is there much more I should need?”

 _Yes,_ Yachi’s dying to say, but she doesn’t. She shrugs, noncommittal and not willing to push further. 

There’s probably a lot more that a man could need in order to be ‘fulfilled’. Tadashi’s father always insisted he should be married with a stable job at 25. A kid by 27 and two more by 35. Like his father was one to talk.

A wife and kids? Tadashi wouldn’t mind that. Would that make him fulfilled? Would that bring him happiness?

Maybe they should stop doing these monthly coffee shop meetings. Yachi’s looking at him with those sad eyes Tadashi can’t say no to. He may no longer feel a romantic attraction to her, but those damn eyes still get him every single time. 

He doesn’t want to make Yachi sad anymore. He doesn’t know what to do. 

“I met someone,” Tadashi lies. There’s no reason to, but he does. 

The immediate guilt rises up in his chest and threatens to bubble out and Tadashi’s on his way to stop the thought and he’s rising out of his chair and extending his hand out but then he sees Yachi. Her face is lit up and her smile is brilliant and she’s so _happy_ for him. It’s like they’ve won Nationals again or something. Does a relationship really warrant this sort of reaction? 

Yachi’s practically on the verge of excited tears. Tadashi sits back down in his seat. 

“Tell me all about them!” She cheers, extending her hands across the table to grab Tadashi’s. 

He looks at them for a moment before meeting Yachi’s gaze once more. 

What does he say? He knows nobody to even _pretend_ to be in a relationship with. It’s a pitiful situation every way Tadashi manages to look at it. 

“You’ll meet them soon,” Tadashi decides to promise. It gives him more time to figure out everything. 

“Okay, okay!” Yachi squeals. “Oh, Yamaguchi-kun I hope it works out!”

“Me too.” 

Yachi steps back from the bridge and goes on about her own life. Tadashi listens and comments when appropriate. He wishes he could genuinely care about everything she’s saying and doing, but he can’t. 

He’s so wrapped up in his own bullshit he can’t be there for Yachi. 

They say their goodbyes not long after that, and Tadashi hugs Yachi tightly. She whispers in his ear how happy she is that he’s happy. Tadashi doesn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. 

Long after she’s left and Tadashi’s on the train home, he realizes he should have told her about his potential promotion. She would’ve had the same reaction. Maybe even a better one. 

At least that one was true and didn’t gnaw at Tadashi’s internal organs like some horrible parasite. He’s being eaten alive, swallowed whole by a horrible monster of his own creation. 

\---

Aiko is objectively pretty. 

Tadashi doesn’t expect it, frankly, from the skillful way her voice sounds over the phone. She may talk like she’s some experienced middle-aged business professional, but she’s far different from the perception of her voice. 

The first thing Tadashi notices about her is her hair. Long and blonde, thick to the point where it creates almost a halo as it hangs to her torso. He’s unsure whether it’s dyed or natural. Either way, it’s wholly breathtaking and a stark contrast to most other people in Japan.

She has a tendency to twirl her fingers in her hair. She practically does so throughout their entire meeting as they discuss what a partnership between the Sendai Frogs and Tadashi's workplace would entail. 

Tadashi carefully watches the soft touches of her fingers and it sort of makes him miss his own long hair. He always loved the feeling running his fingers in it from root to tip. He liked the ripple effect it sent through his body as he shivered under the touch. He particularly loved the way it felt when someone else would play with his hair and give him a soft grin and laugh with him until—

Tadashi clears his throat. Aiko stops mid-sentence and mid-twirl. 

“Is something wrong, Tadashi-kun?” She asks innocently. She insisted on a given name basis for them both. Tadashi said he didn’t mind. 

“It’s nothing,” he responds. “I’m just a little parched.” 

“Oh! Let’s go get you some water then. Come on,” she stands up from her chair and heads towards the door, waving Tadashi along. 

He follows after, taking in the last view of the large conference room. It was a bit odd she insisted they use the space, considering this initial meeting had just been between the two of them. It was even odder that she insisted Tadashi come to their headquarters in the first place considering it wasn’t neutral ground. 

He made the journey regardless, not wanting to disturb his chances. He wasn’t nearly as desperate as Suzuki was, but he knew the opportunity was too good to lose. Tadashi was a career man, after all. 

Aiko waits for Tadashi at the door and falls in step with him as she gives him a tour of the office facilities. He only saw a bit of the place coming in despite Aiko’s enthusiasm about her division. The long, winding hallway to the conference room is filled with old team photos. Tadashi takes only a half-second glance, not allowing himself to look much longer. 

“I hope this doesn’t sound rude,” Aiko begins as she wrings out her hands in front of her, “but why did they send you? I mean, not that I don’t appreciate you coming or anything! I’m just interested, that’s all.” 

Tadashi gives her a soft smile. He can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. 

“I played volleyball in high school,” he supplies. 

Aiko lights up. “Really? Me too! Oh, what position did you play? I bet you were a Middle Blocker. I mean, you seem tall and smart so it makes sense to me.” 

Tadashi laughs at her guess. “That’s right. But really I was just a pinch server.” 

Aiko nods. “I get that. I was a Middle Blocker too, but I didn’t get to play very much. I went to Niiyama and our team was _super_ intense. I loved it, of course, but sometimes the actual playing got to be too much. But I guess I liked it enough to make it my life. I think the V. League is super different though, so it’s not much of a comparison.” 

They’ve made their way down the hall, stopping at a cross-section. The high ceilings make way for elaborate, modern staircases surely leading to more offices. On the right, there’s a reception area flooded with trophies and pictures like it’s an exhibit out of a hall of fame. On the left, there’s a hallway leading down to what could only be a practice gym. 

The sound of squeaking sneakers and the familiar smell of salon-pas calls to Tadashi. He can practically feel the sting of the ball’s memory in his palm as he stares through the sliver of a window on the doors. He can’t make out much, but it’s alluring all the same. Just a step forward… 

“Tadashi-kun?” Aiko calls. 

Tadashi quickly turns back to her, facing the memorabilia once again. “Sorry, I was getting distracted." 

She steps forward, passing him and nearing the doors. “Let me guess,” she grins, placing a hand onto one of the thick doors, “you’re actually a huge Frogs fan?”

“Not particularly…” Tadashi says unconvincingly despite the statement’s candor. 

Aiko laughs. She opens up the door and giddily ushers Tadashi inside. 

The practice gym is simultaneously nostalgic and overwhelming. The fast _snap_ of the ball onto the floor and the incredible extension of muscles as the athletes jump into the air has Tadashi going warm. 

Maybe it’s some Pavlovian response. His heart rate quickening, his brow dotting with sweat, his fingers stretching out and hoping for a ball… surely this must all be some ingrained response triggered once more by being in the presence of a gym. 

Or maybe it’s nervousness. As Tadashi relishes the sentiment, his eyes also begin to unconsciously dart around to try and see the faces of the athletes in front of him. He catches a few of their glances, but not a single pair fills with recognition or dread. 

All the players are unrecognizable. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Aiko says as she suddenly pops into Tadashi’s view. She looks out over the gym. “These are all the third-string players. The real guys won’t get here until later. But who knows? If this partnership works out you may get a chance to meet the real players.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tadashi assures, turning on his heel. He briskly walks back through the door as Aiko trails. “I’m seriously not that big of a fan.”

“Still though, isn’t it cool?” They stroll through the halls and head towards the reception area. Aiko tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “I mean, these guys are some of the best in the nation, and they’re only getting better! Didn’t hear it from me, but I think we have a pretty good chance of moving up to D1. We have to win the championship, of course, but our chances are looking amazing this year.”

They reach the end of the hall and Aiko steps back to give Tadashi a moment to take it all in.

It’s astounding; trophies, medals, and photos are arranged perfectly in glass display cases pushed along the walls. They reflect, golden and bright, with the rays of sunlight coming in from the skylight above. Tadashi feels like he’s stepped into a piece of history even if it’s not his own. 

The older photos show men in scant uniforms posed in old school gymnasiums. The newer ones show powerful spikes, incredible plays, and a whole host of MVP's throughout the years. Large flat screens show off highlight reels while moving picture frames shift to show the array of players they’ve had for the past half century. 

A logoed rug with the Froggy mascot points to a back wall where a giant banner of the current team hangs. The iconic green stands out against the white walls, making way for intense poses mid-action from the best volleyball players in the Miyagi prefecture. 

Tadashi knows a few of them. There’s Koganegawa, their giant setter, posed like he’s about to touch the ball. He has a ‘W’ smile to match the flyaway pieces of his bangs that always seem to stick up. 

There’s also Kyoutani with his intense eyes and furrowed brow. He’s posed post-spike, muscles taut from exertion and his face is contorted in a sort of aggressive pleasure. His hair is different from high school, but the blonde still makes him intimidating, even in the photo. 

The bodies are congressed together, overlapping and outstretching to form a pyramidal composition. Tadashi takes it all in bit by bit, but his eyes are naturally dragged towards the peak to the focal point. 

Tsukishima stands above the rest of the players, taped hands forming a solid block. He looks downward, evidently looking at the players below. In a way though, he feels like he’s staring down straight at Tadashi. He’s wearing that expression of intense focus seen only in the last moments of a long rally. Set jaw, clenched teeth, extreme grace. 

Tadashi’s hands feel clammy. 

“Beautiful, right?” 

Tadashi nearly forgot Aiko was there. She, too, looks up at the banner with a sort of fondness in her expression. Tadashi thinks it’s for the photograph more than the actual players.

“They’re super nice, you know,” she adds. “Especially Koganegawa. Right there.” She points at him, leaning towards the canvas on her toes. 

He figures it’s best to play dumb with her. “What does he play?” Tadashi asks. 

Aiko smiles. Tadashi absently notes how pretty it looks. 

“Setter,” she answers. “He just became the starter two seasons ago, and he’s been kicking ass ever since.” She takes another step forward before turning to face Tadashi. “Have you heard of the Monster Generation?”

Tadashi shakes his head. 

“Oh, okay, okay,” Aiko says giddily. “They’re this group of super talented volleyball players who are all young and are all about the same age. They’re pretty much the ones you saw at the Olympics last year. It’s mainly used to talk about the National Team guys, you know like Ushijima-san and Bokuto-san, but I like to think our guys are monsters too.”

“They are,” Tadashi says, unaware he’s even talking until the words have left his mouth. 

He keeps his gaze locked on Tsukishima. It’s still nothing new. And yet, every aspect is unfamiliar.

It’s a stranger, really. 

Tadashi lowers his head. 

“Sorry,” he tells Aiko. “I don’t think I’m feeling that well today.” 

“Did you still want that water?” Aiko asks, carefully looking over Tadashi. “You look a little hot.” Her eyes go wide. “I mean temperature wise! You look like you’re overheating, I mean. See?”

She presses the back of her hand to Tadashi’s forehead. He sort of jumps at the contact, almost stepping back but Aiko quickly retracts her hand. 

“Warm…” she says. 

“Umm…” Tadashi adjusts the hem of his suit jacket. “Sorry.” 

“No, don’t worry about it!” Aiko assures, waving her hands around. “We can meet again later. I have to discuss it with my boss anyway. I’m sure you have lots to talk about as well.” 

“Yeah…” 

Aiko gives him a full smile. “Let me walk you to the door.”

Tadashi thanks her and idly listens as she talks more about the Frogs. A sort of panic rises in his chest as they pass by the elaborate staircases once more. A tall man with light hair passes by. Tadashi’s breath hitches in his throat until the man gives him an odd look with his dark brown eyes. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Aiko asks, concern dripping in her voice. 

“Positive,” Tadashi nods. “I’ll call on Monday and confirm what my superiors say. They were initially excited for the partnership, so I can't imagine anything would go wrong.”

Aiko switches back into her professional voice, and they finish the last of the arrangements there in the hall. And while he tries his best to keep his eyes firm on Aiko, his gaze unexpectedly wanders towards that mural on the back wall. Tsukishima stares back. 

Even after all this time, it’s still him. 

\---

Tadashi’s tolerance for drinking is low when it concerns his coworkers, but it’s even thinner when it comes to his college friends. 

‘Friends’ may have been an exaggeration. They were the people he went to college with. Most of them stayed local and asked to meet every few months. 

Tadashi’s unsure why they invited him in the first place. He always watches their conversations pass by with nothing to add. He’s simply another warm body occupying their high tables. 

He takes a swig of his beer and attempts to drown out the high-pitched laughter of his former classmates. Even the cigarette smoke billowing from his lips can’t seem to calm him down. His hands become steadily shakier as the night progresses, drink after unfortunate drink. 

“Excuse me,” Tadashi says but no one pays much attention as he slips through them and to a spot at the near empty bar top. 

He lets out a heavy breath, almost collapsing until he hears someone talking to him. He perks up to find a handsome man, dressed in business wear and nursing a cocktail, staring straight at Tadashi. His hair is dark but his gaze is even darker. 

“What?” Tadashi asks. 

The man chuckles and brings the glass to his lips. “I asked if you were having a good time with those friends of yours.”

Tadashi takes a moment to truly observe the man. He must be in his early 30’s and he’s evidently not new to the scene. How he was able to pick Tadashi out of the crowd was somewhat impressive. He likes to think he’s not too obvious with his dress or cadence to attract attention but certainly this man picked it up.

“They’re not exactly my friends,” Tadashi answers. 

The man raises an eyebrow. “So you wouldn’t be too upset leaving them behind, would you?” He muses, cognizant of the intent. 

Tadashi considers everything. Might be nice. A release, if anything. It’s been awhile since he’s done this after all. Maybe could turn into something more if he needs someone to show to Yachi. 

Then again, Tadashi’s not nearly intoxicated enough to make a decision like this. 

The man seems to notice. He orders them a couple of drinks. They talk for a while, both fully aware of where the night will lead but adding time to keep the pretense. Turns out the man works for the marketing team of the baseball team Tadashi had suggested to Suzuki. Go figure. 

A few drinks later, they’ve exchanged enough sultry looks to leave the bar with good reason. Tadashi follows him after grabbing his coat, light on his feet with the trail of a smile on his lips. It’s freeing, he idly thinks. Maybe loose lips and unsteady limbs are a good thing after all. 

His college friends have long forgotten he was there in the first place. He slips by them, stumbling ever-so-slightly until the man grips his elbow to straighten him up. 

“Come on,” he insists, heading towards the exit. Tadashi trails along. 

As they’re about to reach the door, a group of men walk through. Tadashi doesn’t exactly see them until he’s running into a pair of pale collarbones behind a white button down. He’s sent flying backward, sobered only when his ass hits the ground. 

Tadashi’s about to mumble some apology but he looks up.

Photos are one thing. Real life is a whole other monstrosity. 

Tadashi, for a moment, feels like a child again. Staring up at haloed blonde hair, seeing his savior loom over him. The expression is far too similar despite the years. Is he really that pathetic? 

He should say something. He wants to say something, but the words don’t rise so he says nothing. 

A hand reaches out towards him. It’s the man. 

“Are you alright?” He asks. 

Tadashi looks at him and then back to where he was staring. Pain swells in his chest at the distinct face, the all-too-real expression. 

He’s completely and utterly frozen in fear. There’s no fight or flight; merely the definite inability to move or even react in the slightest as to indicate he’s even alive. 

Maybe he’s not alive. His heart has skipped more than a few beats and the panic coursing through his veins isn’t nearly enough to keep him conscious. 

He needs to do _something._

“I… ah…”

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” the man grabs Tadashi’s wrist and pulls him to his feet. He places a firm hand on his lower back and ushers him past the group, towards the exit.

As the door closes behind them, Tadashi manages to peer through the crack. 

Tsukishima, quite simply put, looks ashamed. 

Tadashi lets the door slam behind him and the man. 

He wants to break down. He wants to run inside. He wants to run away. He wants to never be visible in the light of day again. He wants to go back in time, to before any of this happened, and try it all again. 

But he doesn’t. Tadashi follows the man back to his apartment and drinks the last of his bottle of gin.

And he stares at the ceiling as the man thrusts and grunts and moans sweet nothings into Tadashi’s ear. He’s forceful and aggressive to the point where it hurts. He takes and gives little back. Tadashi doesn’t care. 

He simply continues staring at the ceiling and wonders where all the stars went. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle in, boys 
> 
> also follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/copyrightings_) :)


	2. no one else to become

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koganegawa stops laughing as he suddenly lights up, an idea clearly popping into his mind. “We should have you do your serve! You can test it against Tsukki’s and see who has the better one!”
> 
> “He uses a jump floater?” Tadashi asks against his will. Curiosity creeps inside, threatening to kill Tadashi after it’s taken out the cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from: dear stranger by STRFKR
> 
> thanks for the love on the first chapter! I am here, once again, offering up angst for your daily intake 
> 
> k thanks and enjoy 💕

Tadashi takes a shower in the man’s apartment before he leaves. He watches the milky water swirl the drain and wants to vomit at the wretched sight. 

He’s disgusting.

He leaves with wet hair and in his same sweat-stained suit before the sun can begin to peak over the Sendai cityscape. 

\---

The first true hookup Tadashi ever had been during his second semester of college. 

He’d been talking to a pretty, young woman all evening. Tadashi caught her eye the moment she walked into the party, with her long eyelashes and tiny waist. In the end, she was nice, a little drunk, but seriously not Tadashi’s type.

He hooked up with her anyway because his friends were elbowing him all night and saying Tadashi needed to relieve a little stress. 

It was nothing too monumental or amazing. Frankly, it was two bodies pressed against each other and not much else. A relief, perhaps, but it probably caused Tadashi more stress than it was worth. 

In the morning, Tadashi made her breakfast as she sat at his kitchen counter. His roommate came through for some coffee, gave him a raised brow, and promptly went back to his room. 

The night before, she’d been loud and wild. Her persona was stripped during the daylight. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Tadashi turned back to face her as she palmed her cup of coffee. She had striking blue eyes that would have probably been perfect to some guys. Not Tadashi, for whatever reason. He thought they were pretty, but his tastes were different. 

“Sure,” Tadashi responded. 

Her lips set into a pout. “I mean… are you dating someone right now? Like, are you cheating on your girlfriend or something?”

Tadashi turned off the stove and crossed to the counter. “No… I’m single right now… Why?

She shrugged as he served her some eggs. “I don’t know how to explain it, really.” She looked up at him, trying to gauge his expression. “Did you just get out of a relationship?”

Again, Tadashi shook his head. He served himself some food. 

“And this isn’t your first time?” 

Tadashi should’ve been insulted but he simply said, “No,” once more. 

“Weird…” she said, taking a bite. She chewed slowly, not bothering to look at Tadashi as she added, “It’s like… well it’s like I’ve been the ‘Other Woman’ before, you know? And I’ve been used as a rebound. And as someone’s first… it was all uncomfortable and strange and each time I could feel the guy’s guilt. It’s a little different though that’s why I can’t place it… maybe you’re just sad.”

“What makes you think that?” He asked quietly. 

She shrugged again. “I don’t know…” 

She didn’t say much after that. She didn’t ask if Tadashi was actually sad or if something else was weighing heavy on his mind. She didn’t even say thank-you or goodbye as she padded out of the apartment as soon as she was done eating. 

Tadashi supposed he didn’t say much either. He genuinely couldn’t concoct a response as to why a stranger could feel his guilt of all things. A part of him wanted to ask what that even meant in the first place. 

Sure, he had lots to be guilty about, but did she really feel that? And if so, who else could see the way Tadashi carried around a jaded heart? Were his secrets out in the open for all or just those he delegated to sleeping with?

It took him a year, a whole bottle of wine, and ten times the courage he had that night in order to have another one-night stand. 

\---

Tadashi flops onto his bed, letting himself bounce a couple of times as the mattress settles beneath him. It might be useless trying to get sleep now considering dawn is breaking in only a few hours, but he’ll grab any rest he can. It seems like Tadashi, despite his absence of an active social life, can never take a break. Blame it on work or maybe his mind never wanting to stop. 

How long has it been since Tadashi had a moment to rest? He can’t even remember the last time he felt close to peaceful. It’s just been constant movement. The faster he goes, the less he has to think about. 

It’s terrifying when Tadashi’s mind does slow down to consider the _other_. Everything he’s missed out on or neglected. He doesn’t want to dwell on anything too long, lest he get attached. 

Tadashi shakes his head, attempting to clear the creeping thoughts away. He doesn’t have the time. He needs a distraction. 

He pulls out his phone and opens up Instagram. Yachi convinced him to get it a few years ago despite his inactivity. His profile has a mere five photos, all of which Yachi helped him to pick out and post. Tadashi doesn’t exactly see the need for social media especially when he’s not too keen on the whole ‘social’ part. 

Regardless, he scrolls on his feed for a few minutes before the restlessness catches up. He tosses his phone aside, strips out of his suit, and puts on a comfy pair of sweatpants and an old college tee. 

It’s still there though. The image and the guilt and the—

Tadashi turns on his TV. He lazily cycles through the different channels, stopping on the evening news for a few moments before he flicks to some cheap kaiju movie he vaguely recognizes from childhood. All of the programming is old, made for night owls who have nothing better to do than catch the last few plot points of an old law show. It’s all white noise to Tadashi, enough to nearly lure him into slumber until a documentary pulls him back to consciousness. 

He recognizes the photographs, even a little startled as his own image pulls up. He quickly turns up the volume and positions himself on his elbows to get a better look at the screen. 

“Kageyama-senshu and Hinata-senshu successfully brought their team to Nationals all three years of high school,” the narrator explains in a deep, calming voice. The screen fades between photos of them from Karasuno, most of which are focused on Kageyama and Hinata playing together.

He vaguely remembers Hinata talking about how he’d been featured in some made-for-TV movie, but Tadashi never could have calculated that he’d be part of it as well. Even if his presence is small and certainly nothing in comparison to the actual stars of the film, the whole thing still feels like an invasion of privacy. High school was so many years ago; the last thing he needs is someone seeing this and asking about his relation to some world-ranked volleyball players. 

That part of his life is long gone. 

“In their last year, Karasuno placed third in the nation,” the narrator continued. “Their fine teamwork and so-called ‘ultra quick’ proved to be the key to their shared success.”

The documentary flips to a picture taken right after they’d won their ranking game, thinly beating out Itachiyama in order to secure their placement as the third best volleyball team in the nation. It shows Hinata and Kageyama screaming at each other with intense elation after their successful back attack. The other players celebrate as well, while a wide-grinned Tadashi is shown rushing the court with the rest of the team flanking his sides. 

Tsukishima stands near the net, flashing an oh-so-rare smile, towards the back of the court. If the camera isn’t lying and if Tadashi’s eyes perceive correctly, it almost appears that his happiness is turned towards _Tadashi_ of all people. 

How strange. 

How… honest. 

Most of Nationals still feels like a blur. Sure it happened years ago, but Tadashi’s pretty convinced he’s done his duty in terms of suppressing most of what happened. There’s still quite a bit of good memories too, he supposes. Apparently this photo captures one of them. 

“We asked Middle Blocker Tsukishima Kei-senshu from the Sendai Frogs his opinion on being teammates with Kageyama-senshu and Hinata-senshu.”

The documentary switches to a video of Tsukishima post-game, still dripping with sweat while his green Frogs uniform clings to his body. He’s surrounded by reporters, one of which evidently poses the same question. Tsukishima looks right into the camera, gold eyes appearing nearly brown on the low-quality footage. 

“They’re idiots,” Tsukishima says quite frankly, voice warped by the bad recording. He looks around a little, using the towel around his neck to wipe off some of his sweat, before he finally relinquishes, “They’re talented idiots, but idiots nonetheless.”

“What sort of drama brewed on the Karasuno team?” The narrator questions as the video zooms into a still of Tsukishima’s face. “What happened after Kageyama-senshu and Hinata-senshu graduated? Please stay tuned through these commercial messages to hear the rest of the story of the Demon Duo.”

A woman promoting yogurt pops onto the screen, forcing Tadashi out of his almost intoxicated stupor. Maybe he’s still feeling the effects of all that gin from earlier. 

Brief memories from his dirty deeds in the hours prior force a gag to ripple through Tadashi’s frame. The unconformability sets in quickly and lasts even as Tadashi crawls under the covers and forces his mind to think of other things. Revulsion pulses, sound and secure, as the relentless image of those dark eyes peering into him morphs into golden eyes filled with disgust. 

Tadashi flips onto his other side and attempts to soothe his rapid-beating heart. He should really get some rest. 

But the golden eyes stay, as they so often do, a haunting memory Tadashi can’t ever seem to get rid of despite his constant efforts to forget. 

\---

Suzuki is extremely pleased at Tadashi’s work. He even says so, during their overtime of course, much to the dismay of his coworkers. 

Hayato gives him a dirty look, seemingly forgetting he was the one to give out Tadashi’s name in the first place. The coworkers probably won’t invite him out for beers for a while. Tadashi couldn’t mind less, honestly. 

\---

“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Aiko says smoothly, holding out a hand to shake. 

Tadashi takes it and gives her a pressed-lip smile. She instantly loses her professional persona and returns to the bubbly, fun presence Tadashi’s mostly come to associate her with. 

“Oh, I’m so excited to keep working with you!” Aiko cheers with a toothy grin. She then stops herself and asks, “We are going to be working together… right?” 

“It looks that way,” Tadashi says. 

Aiko leads him through the long halls of the Frogs center once more, only this time Tadashi knows what to expect from the building. The large windows and the extensive staircases are somewhat welcoming now. It’s strange, he thinks. He’s only been here a handful of times before for various meetings over the last few weeks and yet now the whole place is oddly familiar. 

“Okay, good, good!” Aiko nods. She lets out a sigh of relief. “Moving forward our goal will be creating a synergistic relationship but there’s a lot that should be entailed. We have galas with our other sponsors, uniform changes, press releases, promotion directly from our athletes, and a whole lot more. Up for the challenge?”

Tadashi presses his lips together. Quite honestly, he didn’t think he’d make it this far. Under usual circumstances, his position would be transferred to a higher-up better equipped for managing a project this large. Tadashi wasn’t nearly qualified to undertake such an important role, and yet Suzuki had insisted he was the man for the job. Suzuki’s recommendation wasn’t taken lightly, though. Most of the other senior-level managers still saw Tadashi as a widely unqualified rookie. That was fine. 

“I’ll try my best,” Tadashi decides to respond. Aiko seems pleased by the answer. 

“Now the timeline is relatively pressed, given the nature of the sport, but my superiors would prefer if we worked quickly. They said they’d like to debut the partnership as a sort of publicity stunt before we enter the season. That would put us at about mid-September. Now, I know that’s only a couple months away, but I’m certain we can make it work. A press conference is due in order to—”

“Aiko-chan!” A voice calls from the end of the hallway. She quickly pauses her rambling and Tadashi barely has enough time to poke his head out when he hears it ask, “Yamaguchi?” 

He stiffens at the name. A wave of panic soundly courses through his body as a pop of blonde hair and bright eyes come into view. 

Koganegawa gives them a once-over as he nears, walking straight past Aiko to give Tadashi a bone-crushing hug. He looks back to her, catching her look of pure confusion as he lightly taps on Koganegawa’s back. 

“How are you!” The giant setter laughs as he steps back to observe Tadashi once more at arm’s length. The man himself has changed little from high school. The main difference is the appearance of hefty muscles on his arms and a shorter haircut than before. 

“I’m okay,” Tadashi replies, glancing over at Aiko once more. She stares back at them, assessing it all herself. 

“Man it’s been like what, seven, eight years?” Koganegawa questions, tightening his grip on Tadashi’s shoulder. “Seriously, what happened to you? It’s like you dropped off the face of the earth or something!”

Tadashi’s about to come up with an excuse but Koganegawa fills in the pause himself. 

“Ya know, I was actually thinking about you the other day. See, I was talking with Tsukki and he was all like,” Tadashi winces as Koganegawa preps his best Tsukishima impression, furrowed brow and all, “‘I have plans with a friend I can’t come to your party this evening’ and I was like ‘Oh! Are you talking ‘bout Yamaguchi?’ But then Tsukki was all distracted by that or something weird, man that guy is strange… anyway, he sort of left after really quickly after that saying no and to be honest I don’t know where that came from because it’s not like he talks about you or anything, well he doesn’t really talk about _anyone_ but still, but it’s like _Wow I haven’t thought about you in years and suddenly when I bring you up you reappear again._ Weird right?”

“Weird,” Yamaguchi agrees.

“Ah, remember that time you used to hate me?” Koganegawa laughs. “Oh my god, you were so angry when I came up to Tsukki at that one practice game but then the next one you got a lot nicer.”

“I never hated you,” Tadashi tries to say. 

“I know, I know, but I still think it’s funny. Anyway, it’s really good to see you!” Koganegawa assures with a slap to the back. “We’ll have to go out for drinks sometime! Aiko-chan, you can come too!” 

Aiko’s features remain stagnant. “I’d love to come and hear all about your friendship with Tadashi-kun.”

Koganegawa nods excitedly. “Oh yeah, totally. Ya know, this guy had the _nastiest_ jump floater in the nation. Swear on it.” He suddenly whips his attention back to Tadashi. “Can you still do it?”

“I haven’t played volleyball in years…” Tadashi’s hoping that’s enough to convince him to back down and stop talking, but Koganegawa doesn’t take the hint. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’re still amazing at it!” Koganegawa bellows at his own thought. Tadashi sheepishly chuckles in response, but he can feel himself becoming more uncomfortable minute by unbearable minute. 

Koganegawa stops laughing as he suddenly lights up, an idea clearly popping into his mind. “We should have you do your serve! You can test it against Tsukki’s and see who has the better one!”

“He uses a jump floater?” Tadashi asks against his will. Curiosity creeps inside, threatening to kill Tadashi after it’s taken out the cat. 

Koganegawa nods confidently. “Yeah. Dude, when I was first on the team, so like a few years ago, I remember always trying to talk to Tsukki when he was trying to study jump floaters. We’d be on the bus or something, and he’d have his headphones on watching a video and no matter how hard I tried I could never get his attention.” He pouts at the memory, quick to embody his sad words. 

It doesn’t surprise Tadashi at all though. For most people, Tsukishima’s headphones were a clear indicator he was _not_ in the mood to talk. Sure they’d been a warning to Tadashi as well, but he was usually able to break the negative curse by tugging twice on the edge of Tsukishima’s sleeve. His most common response was to hook his headphones around his neck and listen to whatever Tadashi had to say that day. Although, there were the rare occasions in which Tsukishima would ignore Tadashi’s attention. At those times, Tadashi was content to simply listen to whatever music Tsukishima was playing (although, his headphones were cheap and the quality was awful, especially at the volume Tsukishima always played it at).

Tadashi doesn’t even realize he’s been zoning out of the conversation until he notices Koganegawa is staring straight at him with a goofy-looking grin and wide eyes. 

“Sorry, what?” Tadashi asks. 

Koganegawa dramatically rolls his eyes. “I said, you should demonstrate your serve! I’m sure Aiko-chan would love to see it too!"

Again, Tadashi’s nearly forgotten she was there. She, too, is looking directly at him, though there’s no sense of giddy or glee, unlike Koganegawa. 

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Tadashi says, panic rising in his tone. He seriously doubts he can still even do it. Then again, he’d probably done a million serves and something like _that_ isn’t so easily erased from one’s habits. Tadashi’s pretty sure that volleyball is like riding a bike and that the moment he places his hands onto a ball the thrill of it all will come rushing back to him like it’d never left in the first place. Still… he doesn’t want to see whatever else Koganegawa has in store. 

“Nonsense!” Koganegawa insists, maneuvering himself around Tadashi in order to place his hands on his back. 

“What are you—”

“Come on! Show Tsukki your serve!” He begins to push Tadashi towards the practice gym while Tadashi scrambles to get out of his grip. Unfortunately, Koganegawa has a lot more centimeters than Tadashi, and a whole bout of enthusiasm, which renders him practically useless against the giant setter’s forces.

“Koganegawa, I really don’t think I—”

“You’ll be great!” They near the doors and Tadashi can begin to see inside the small window. There’s already a few players warming up, all long legs and powerful spikes as they fly across the court. There’s a flash of blonde and Tadashi feels himself beginning to panic even more. 

“Please, I—”

“Koganegawa.”

They all pause and Tadashi feels Koganegawa’s hands drop from his back. He turns to see another oddly familiar mop of blonde hair, only this one is paired with a dark set of judging eyes. 

“Kyouken-san!” Koganegawa cheers. He flocks over to Kyoutani’s side and points at Tadashi. “Remember Yamaguchi? He’s—”

“Pinch server,” Kyoutani finishes, brows forming a thick line. 

Tadashi feels himself clam up. He’s a little surprised Kyoutani even recognizes him. While the man himself had an undeniable presence that couldn’t be ignored once he stepped onto the court, Tadashi was more of a silent player. They’d only faced off a handful of times in their overlapping high school years. Tadashi, frankly, didn’t realize he had any sort of presence. 

“Yeah,” he squeaks, making sure to not look Kyoutani straight in the eyes. He’s vaguely afraid he’ll turn into stone. 

“Don’t you think Yamaguchi should show us his jump floater?” Koganegawa asks excitedly. 

Kyoutani, thankfully, doesn’t seem impressed by Tadashi’s old career. “No.”

“What? But—”

Kyoutani pushes past them with little regard. Koganegawa follows after him, already starting up some new insignificant commentary, and they enter the gym forgetting Tadashi was even there in the first place. He supposes that’s how things should be. 

It hits him though, as Tadashi turns back to see Aiko’s face scrunched-up in a newfound anger, that he’s seriously fucked up. That dreadful feeling of things going so terribly wrong is, unfortunately, one that Tadashi is well-versed in. 

“I thought you didn’t know who Koganegawa was,” Aiko says, not bothering to look at him. 

Tadashi flinches. “I’m sorry…”

There’s an excuse here, a lie to smooth everything over and make it seem like Tadashi wasn’t initially some lying freak who felt the need to hide away his past that wasn’t even truly traumatic. He was blowing the whole thing out of proportion, really. Who even cares if he knew a couple of the players? It’s not like it changed anything. 

He’s pathetic, really. Holding onto trauma from his youth like it’s the only thing he has left. People were out in the world dying and Tadashi’s been feeling sorry for himself for years because he has nothing better to do. What a pity. 

“Tadashi-kun, I don’t like liars,” Aiko says softly. She runs her fingers through her hair. Maybe it’s a nervous habit or maybe she really just likes her hair; Tadashi hasn’t decided yet. 

“I’m sorry,” Tadashi apologizes again. He drops his head. 

He’s really fucked it all up this time. Maybe this will be his downfall. Maybe Aiko will report to his superiors and get someone else on the job. Maybe Suzuki will fire him and put him on the blacklist, so Tadashi won’t be able to get another job. Maybe this is the last regrettable thing Tadashi will ever do. 

Aiko lets out a big sigh and places her hands onto her hips. “Why did you even lie? You could have told me that you knew a couple of the players.”

Tadashi _could_ have done a lot of things but isn’t it easier to forget about fickle things like the past? Tadashi’s pretty sure there’s a saying about that… 

“I…” Tadashi swallows hard. He’s not nearly charismatic enough to make an excuse seem reasonable so he tells her some semblance of the truth. “You look really excited about telling me about the Frogs… I didn’t want to disappoint you…”

He purposefully avoids the fact that he didn’t want to be here in the first place but the thought of losing this all simply terrifies him to no end. 

Aiko drops her arms and takes a step forward. “I don’t like liars. I may come off happy all the time, but nothing bugs me more than lying for no reason. I appreciate that you wanted to protect my feelings, but I’m not some little kid, Tadashi-kun. So what if you know Kanji-kun and Kentaro-san?”

“It’s not just them,” Tadashi says quietly. 

“Who else?” She thinks it through, expression souring. “Wait, didn’t Kanji-kun mention something about Kei-kun?”

Tadashi shoves his hands into his pockets to prevent them from shaking anymore. “Yeah. We’re ah… we’re from the same high school.”

What isn’t said, but is rattling around in Tadashi’s mind, is just about everything else Tsukishima is… 

It’s a terrible fact that Tsukishima now exists with an asterisk. He’s Tadashi’s childhood best friend*, and perhaps the only person in the entire world that knows Tadashi inside and out*. 

The little asterisk added to the end of those statements places their entire relationship into the conditional. The truth that lies in that tiny little star is that they no longer associate with one another. That _former_ should be inserted before _childhood best friend._ That they are practical strangers with one another, even if they once knew every detail about the other. Tadashi’s unsure if he even knows a single thing about Tsukishima anymore. It’s been so long… 

Where Tsukishima used to exist with semicolons to connect long, winding phrases of emotional thought, he now has an asterisk branded next to his name. Tsukishima prevails with conditions and limitations, things he put in place himself.

Where Tadashi always had a conjunction to keep his feelings alive, Tsukishima placed a period at the end of their names. And so it remains, stubbornly kept there by Tadashi who no longer needs something to keep his thoughts about Tsukishima going. If he placed the asterisk and the period, Tadashi would keep them. 

Tadashi and Kei. Childhood best friends. Kei is the only person in the entire world that knows Tadashi inside and out. And vice versa. 

Tadashi doesn’t tell this to Aiko though. He cannot bring himself to even consider how she’d might react if she discovered everything about them. Certainly, she would also give him a look of pure disgust if she knew. 

But she doesn’t know and Tadashi doesn’t elaborate, and it finally sinks in it that they were simply friends in high school. 

In fact, Aiko lights up. “You should have just said something! It’s not a bad thing you’re friends with them. It honestly makes things on my end easier. We’ve had issues in the past where associates didn’t know how to act properly around the players even though they’re regular people. I can’t even imagine what they’d be like around a Division 1 team…”

Tadashi’s not quite sure where she’s trying to go with her logic but maybe it isn’t quite the end of everything…

Aiko’s hands reflexively return to curling through her hair. “Promise me you’ll be upfront about things from now on,” she says sternly, steadily finding her voice. “As a business partner and as a um… friend.” She’s hesitant on the last word, eyes even flicking away from Tadashi as if to prove her uncertainty. 

“I will be,” Tadashi promises in a soft voice. “And I’m sorry.”

Aiko simply nods in response. “And you were doing so well…” she says under her breath, obviously not meant for Tadashi to hear. 

She leaves after that, with a simple goodbye and a plan for their next meeting. Tadashi sees her off before leaving through the reception area. Despite his disposition with the rest of the complex, this room he’ll never quite get used to. There’s far too many images for his brain to comprehend. 

He leaves the building, ready to face the blistering heat of early August. A part of him hopes it’ll get cooler soon. A part of him says the heat is simply retribution. 

As he walks towards the train station, he passes by vendors attempting to sell ice cream and other sweet treats as kids flock about during their summer vacation. They pass by Tadashi, fingers sticky and laughs abundant, like they don’t have a care in the world. 

Tadashi considers stopping by one of the vendors and getting something for old time’s sake, but he can’t convince himself to do so. That would require him to actually stop and talk with the vendor and potentially make a light conversation or try and fill the awkward silence that always inevitably comes. He can’t even handle the thought of what the other people around him might think. Some random businessman out in the day with a strawberry ice pop? An atrocious sight indeed. 

Still, Tadashi longs for that light feeling that used to come with summertime and adolescence. As a kid, he was dying to grow up. He hopped on the path towards adulthood in the hopes that it would bring something new and exciting. He childishly thought something _good_ would come out of forcing himself to grow up. 

He was too young to see what lay beyond. 

He’s still too young to consider what the future may hold and how Tadashi, as insignificant as he is, has any part in it. 

\---

As high-rise city buildings flatten out to become small houses lined with trees and lush green bushes, Tadashi can feel himself ease into the seat of the train. There’s something too busy for the constant movement of Sendai; while it’s certainly not as fast-paced as Tokyo or Osaka, Sendai still feels swarming with people at all times of the day. Tadashi would prefer to live in a place where he can catch his breath every once in a while, but it would be awhile until he settled down in the suburbs. Maybe when he had a wife and kids… 

The train’s relatively barren for a Saturday morning. Tadashi would expect more people to try and escape the masses for a relaxing weekend near Karasuno, but it appears only a few grandparents, another businessman, and a young couple attempting to wrangle a toddler are his only like-minded thinkers. 

An odd memory pops up. From one of those before-dawn drives into the city to catch a couple practice games with the Fukurodani group over the course of a volleyball-packed weekend. The chatter on the bus would always be nonexistent, sort of how it was on Tadashi’s train now, but Tadashi had never minded. He would fall asleep regardless, only to be woken up and discover he’d been drooling on Tsukishima’s shoulder the whole trip. A few times, Tsukishima had fallen asleep on him too. There was always something sort of sweet about finding Tsukishima like that; defenseless as the sun began to peek out over the mountains and catch on his blonde curls. Tadashi would laugh and take in the beautiful, rare sight, before an argument would break out in the seat over and the moment would be ruined before Tadashi even got the chance to admire it properly. He cherished those quiet moments, before Tsukki, and the rest of the world, would rise. He could stare at that—

Tadashi sucks in a breath. 

He rubs at his eyes, trying to convince himself to stay awake a little longer. He shouldn’t be thinking about that kind of thing anyway. 

His stop comes up and Tadashi gets off the train. The toddler reaches for Tadashi as he passes by. They have big eyes that watch curiously, even as Tadashi gives them a little wave. 

The walk from the station back to his mom’s apartment isn’t too awful. While the heat still bites with all the venom of a rattlesnake, Tadashi feels like it’s a bit more manageable than back in the city. The sound of cicadas and shade of the trees is actually somewhat comforting. 

He passes by a group of kids playing volleyball in the park. While their gameplay is rudimentary, their attitudes are incandescently bright. Tadashi sort of smiles to himself, but doesn’t let the feeling linger too long. He continues on the path back home. 

Tadashi doesn’t even get one foot in the door before his mother tackles him with an all-encompassing hug. She abruptly pulls back though, eyeing him from head to toe. If there’s one thing Yamaguchi Sayo is known for, it’s her extreme ability to pick up minute changes to someone’s behavior. Awful for teenage Tadashi and arguably even worse for him now. 

“You’re skinny,” she comments, squinting her eyes. “What happened?”

“Nothing?” Tadashi sort of questions as he toes off his shoes at the genkan. “Nothing happened.”

She thoroughly eyes him once more before deciding she won’t get a proper answer and heading back inside. Tadashi follows after her, taking his usual place at the kitchen counter. It’s been a few weeks since he visited. There’s a handful of new plants on the window sill. 

“Hungry?” Sayo asks, already poking through the fridge. “I can make you some stir-fry vegetables. I should have some from the other day…”

“I’m fine,” Tadashi assures. Sayo pops her head out of the fridge, brows forming a thick line. “Really,” Tadashi nods. 

“I don’t believe you for a minute,” Sayo says back as she pulls out some vegetables. “You’ve got that look on your face like you’ve seen a ghost. Who was it this time?”

“No one,” Tadashi answers. He cuts in before Sayo can dig any deeper. “How’s treatment?”

Sayo adjusts her headscarf, done simply today with a little knot towards the back instead of one of the fancier folds she’s learned over the past few years. “Halfway through now,” Sayo answers with a sort of devilish grin. She flexes her arm out as if to prove her strength. “Told ya’, this thing isn’t gonna get me.”

Tadashi smiles at that. Genuinely. The first round of chemo had been a nightmare. Tadashi’s first year as an intern was hard enough as is with having the constant worry of whether or not his mom was alive. He spent his weekends at home, often the only person to actually check up on her, before heading out to Sendai again on the earliest train Monday morning. He’d offered to quit and help to take care of her full time, but she’d assured him that the new freckle they’d found on her arm would be easily taken care of. Two surgeries, and three rounds of chemo later, ‘new freckle’ had turned into ‘Stage 3 Melanoma’ and years of constant worry. 

Sayo's been strong throughout the whole thing though. She never broke down, not even once. Tadashi genuinely has no idea how she does it. He could probably learn a thing or two. 

Sayo begins telling some story about how a woman in her support group was rude but the conversation easily deviates from there. The one thing that Tadashi shares with his mother, other than a somewhat annoying abundance of freckles, is the ability to ramble on for hours. Lately though, Tadashi’s been doing less of the talking and more of the listening. He doesn’t have much to add once he’s told her that yes, Yachi is doing well (Sayo’s under the horrible belief they’ll end up married) and yes, his superiors are happy with his work. 

Sayo suspects something’s wrong and lets the silence be filled with the sound of caramelizing onions. The sweet smell takes up the little kitchen, almost enough to take away the bitter taste on Tadashi’s tongue when he gets up to examine those embarrassing photos of himself still hung up in the living room. 

“Daisuke is coming by later,” she hums. “Did you still want to meet him?”

“Sure,” Tadashi replies coolly, observing a particularly atrocious photo of himself from his second year of high school. He’d gotten his hair cut _way_ too short and spent practically his entire summer indoors because of volleyball; in whole, an actual pubescent monster. 

“He’s really nice,” Sayo adds, raising a brow. 

Tadashi nods. “I know. You’ve only told me good things about him.”

“It’s because he’s so much better than your father.”

Tadashi sighs, ready for her sprawling rant about how awful of a man he was and how he’d left them behind and blah blah blah… Tadashi wasn’t really in the mood right now to rehash that whole _thing._

Instead, a sort of different horror arises. 

“Have you talked with Kei-kun recently?” She asks innocently enough.

Tadashi whips his head to her. She’s focused on adding in some bell peppers and zucchini. “Why do you ask?”

Is his heart beating faster? Does he sound panicked? Is he panicked? Why is he so panicked? It’s just Tsukishima. He can talk about Tsukishima without freaking out. _Stop being so panicked._

“No reason…” Sayo presses her lips together before relinquishing, “I saw Fumiyo at the store, and she said Kei-kun was doing well and… I don’t know… you haven’t talked about him in so long and—”

“Not all childhood friends make it into adulthood,” Tadashi states curtly. 

“I know, but—”

“It’s fine,” Tadashi attempts to convince her. Maybe he’s just trying to convince himself. 

“I just don’t get it…” Sayo says, almost to herself, as she seasons the veggies. “You were so close…”

Sayo surprisingly doesn’t add on after that. Tadashi doesn’t have anything to say either. 

_Yes we were close,_ Tadashi thinks to himself as he retakes his seat at the kitchen counter. He answers her hidden, peering questions to himself. 

_No, I can’t tell you what happened._

_No, I don’t know how to fix it._

_No, I don’t even know if I want to fix it._

_No, I don’t know when I’ll talk to him next._

_No, I don’t hate him._

_No, I don’t like him._

_Yes, I’m fine. Completely, 100%, fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no ur not get some help 
> 
> also follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/copyrightings_) :)


	3. the moon will abandon you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then there’s Tsukishima.
> 
> Tsukishima, who embodies what it means to grow up. Tsukishima, who was at Tadashi’s side for every one of those great memories. Tsukishima, who was so often the cause of the things Tadashi has tried his best to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from: after the moon by real estate
> 
> welcome back welcome back y'all ready for some angst
> 
> also everyone say thank you [jess](https://twitter.com/halloaloe) for catching all of my stupid mistakes 💕 go check out her [writing!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halloaloe)
> 
> thanks for the love and enjoy! 💕💕

Morikatsu holds up two green VIP badges as a giddy grin spreads across his lips.

Tadashi barely offers up any sort of acknowledgement before promptly turning back to his computer and beginning to type again.

“Come _on_ Yama-kun, I thought you liked volleyball!” Morikatsu whines as he steps into Tadashi’s cubicle. He waves the passes in Tadashi’s face before he has the mind to knock them away.

Tadashi likes volleyball just fine. He doesn’t like the idea of spending his Saturday evening with Morikatsu at a Frogs game. _That_ sounded like a personal hell carved perfectly for Tadashi. Morikatsu may have been the only person in his office he could actually tolerate, but that did _not_ mean he wanted to spend any more time with the guy. Drinks every few weeks was enough (thank god Tadashi had finally stopped being invited to those though).

“I’m busy,” Tadashi tries to lie. It’s a poor excuse, but he doesn’t have much else to give.

Morikatsu gives him a _tsk_ and turns his attention towards Tadashi’s desk. Before he can stop him, Morikatsu removes a picture frame and holds it up, out of Tadashi’s grasp. He turns it around, pointing at the people in the picture.

“Were you with _her_ last weekend?” Morikatsu teases.

The photo shows Tadashi at his college graduation with Yachi at his side. He’d invited Hinata and Kageyama as well, but they were deep into training and unfortunately couldn’t make it. Yachi, however, came and cheered with Tadashi’s mother as he accepted his diploma. He went to her graduation the following weekend, of course, and the roles were reversed when he got to cheer her on with the elder Yachi.

“I visited my mom,” Tadashi explains.

Morikatsu snorts. “Ha! Oh man, you really are lonely. You definitely need my help then. We should get you a girlfriend ASAP.”

“And you think that a D2 volleyball exhibition match is the place to meet someone?” Tadashi asks back.

“‘Course it is,” Morikatsu says, as he sets the photo back in its rightful place. “Though I’m kinda upset we lost the Raiders. I’m gonna miss those games…”

Tadashi, who attended one singular game in his entire three-year career at the company, would not miss those games.

“You know my high school team went to Nationals,” Morikatsu mentions. Again.

“I know,” Tadashi says. He attempts to brace himself for the story of Morikatsu’s high school success, but he can’t find the energy to do so. He wants nothing more than to finish out his work for the day and go home and sleep. Finally get some proper rest.

Morikatsu’s about to begin his story when a sharp, “Yamaguchi-kun,” rings out over the offices.

Tadashi immediately rises and drops to a bow when he sees Suzuki and Hayato outside his cubicle. Morikatsu follows suit, albeit a little slower.

“Frogs update?” Suzuki asks, making it sound more like an instruction instead of a genuine query.

Tadashi rises to say, “Everything is going according to the outlined plan. We are finalizing the last details of the release, and I will send over the files as soon as I’m done with them.” “Mmm,” Suzuki gives as a response. Better than anything else he usually gives.

Hayato peers in from over Suzuki’s shoulder, giving him and Morikatsu a dirty look. “What have you been up to? Why isn’t Mr. Nationals over here in his own office?”

Tadashi quickly yanks the passes out of Morikatsu’s hands and presents them to his superiors.

“We were discussing the details of attending the Frogs game this weekend. I wanted to observe their gameplay and confirm this is the right direction for our sponsorship.”

Both Suzuki and Hayato give little indication they’d heard Tadashi in the first place. They simply nod and leave, allowing Tadashi to live yet another inglorious day in the office. He still lets out a pent-up breath when they’re out of sight though, grateful he hasn’t fucked anything up yet.

Tadashi looks over to Morikatsu. He’s grinning like a stupid idiot.

“So what time should I pick you up on Saturday?”

\---

“You’re going… to a Frogs game?” Yachi asks slowly, as if each word was a foreign concept she simply couldn’t wrap her mind around. Tadashi guesses the behavior is a bit out of character, but it shouldn’t be _that_ surprising. He was friends with Tsukishima for years. He can support him.

“Yeah…” Tadashi affirms.

Yachi shakes her head as she rubs her hand along the side of her mug. “Sorry, I sound rude, and I don’t mean to, but… why?” “It’s for work,” Tadashi says. He clears his throat and readjusts his seating. Why did he say that like a lie?

Yachi presses her lips into a tight smile. “Yamaguchi, I don’t know if you should go. What if something happens?” “We’re adults, Yachi-san,” Tadashi assures, even if his voice is wobbly. “We’ll be fine.”

Yachi nods. Tadashi takes a sip.

Around them, the café is bustling with life. The whirring of the latte machines and the soft ambiance of conversation allows the silence between them to not contain too much awkwardness. In a strange way, the clanking of spoons and the customer-friendly voices of the baristas is somewhat comforting.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” Yachi asks, shattering any sort of act Tadashi's been building over the last half hour.

“Um…” Tadashi tugs on the edge of his shirt collar. Is it hot in here? Is he going crazy? “2018… I think? Um… yeah.”

Yachi lets out a breath. She doesn’t know everything. Tadashi’s never quite been willing to share. Maybe one day… but certainly not now.

“How did your date go?” Tadashi asks, so he can do what he does best: toss the conversation away from himself.

Yachi shakes her head. “Not good,” she sighs. “Definitely the worst date I’ve had in awhile. I think dating apps are so pointless. Is it too much to ask to meet someone the normal way?”

Tadashi shrugs. “I mean, I always think it’s better, but online dating has some perks.”

“Is that how you met your person?” Yachi asks, fully aware she’s intruding despite her fake innocence. “What was their name again?”

“Yachi-san…”

“Yamaguchi, you never tell me about your life,” Yachi sighs as she fidgets with her fingers. “It’s like… well it’s like after you graduated from college you stopped talking. Maybe it was before that… I don’t understand it but I know that I’m worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t worry,” Tadashi says, guilt rising in his chest. He’s been such a bother that he’s caused Yachi to stress for him more than necessary. She shouldn’t be spending any time concerning herself with Tadashi’s issues. He isn’t worth the trouble.

The silence settles between them again.

Tadashi checks his watch. “I should probably go…”

Yachi stands up abruptly, the table pushing away from her. Tadashi can visibly see the worry plastered onto her face; all upturned brows and agape mouth like she wants to say something. “Yamaguchi-kun, don’t…” Yachi collects herself and releases a steady breath. “Don’t jeopardize your happiness at the expense of others.”

Tadashi chuckles because he doesn’t know how else to react. Yachi’s serious, determined glare deserves an equal reaction, but Tadashi can’t give one.

“Thank you for your concern, Yachi-san,” Tadashi says in the most calming tone he can muster, “but I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.”

They say their goodbyes, which take a little longer than usual. Yachi hugs him tightly and refuses to let go, almost as if this was the last time they’d ever see each other. Tadashi tries to reassure her that nothing is wrong and everything will be fine, but she’s rather unconvinced.

In the end, Tadashi truly feels like it takes everything he has to tell _himself_ that everything will be fine.

\---

Sendai City Gymnasium isn’t as packed as it was when Tadashi led Karasuno to victory against Aoba Johsai for their third straight ticket to the Spring Nationals. That day, it seemed like every single seat was filled. Tadashi felt those thousands of eyes staring upon him and somehow _relished_ in the moment. He was able to stand proud with the captains mark strapped to his chest and a confident team behind his back.

Tadashi wonders where all of that childish confidence went as he re-enters the stadium for the first time in years. Morikatsu’s gawking at all the food stands and the fans dressed in head-to-toe Frogs apparel. He even stops to buy his own overpriced Froggy hat while Tadashi anxiously stands by.

Maybe it’s Yachi’s warnings from the day prior, but Tadashi can’t help but feel like something is bound to go wrong. It’s different from the usual paranoia Tadashi carries in familiar places to the point where he’s nearly jumping at every person that passes by.

It doesn’t exactly help that there’s people _everywhere._ Not as many as when Tadashi last played here, but plenty to send his uneasiness through the roof.

“Why don’t we grab our seats?” Tadashi suggests to Morikatsu as he makes small talk with one of the vendors.

Morikatsu waves him off. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later.” Tadashi huffs out a breath. He can’t regret his decision, he has no right to. He’ll simply have to survive. No one dies playing volleyball. He’ll be fine.

Alone, he winds his way through the outer hallways of the stadium until he finds the right entrance. He shows off his badge to the security guard and enters the private viewing area that’s meant for the players’ friends and families. Those who can’t make the exhibition pass on their tickets for the Frogs’ elite friends. Tadashi isn’t sure why _he_ is considered one of these people, but at least the area’s not too crowded yet. There’s a handful of wives and a couple of older kids.

Tadashi overlooks the court below. The players haven’t entered yet, but there’s music blasting over the PA system to get the whole stadium hyped. The chatter outside the private section is overwhelming; the voices consolidate, one into the other, until they form a clamor deafening enough to make Tadashi’s heart go wild.

He’s about to back up and figure out some excuse to give his superiors on Monday morning as to why he didn’t attend the game but a clear voice says, “Karasuno?” loud enough to freeze Tadashi in his tracks.

“With the nasty jump floater, right?” It continues. In one of the seats closest to the railing is a man decked in Frogs memorabilia, happy and green to contrast the serious look on his face. His short, chestnut hair curls against his forehead to reveal the older version of a man Tadashi hasn’t seen since high school.

“It’s Yamaguchi,” he supplies, still taking in the man. Isn’t this section supposed to be for the players’ families?

“That’s right…” he says, nodding slightly. His eyes flick towards Tadashi’s hands before meeting his gaze again. “Yahaba, from Aoba Johsai. Don’t be too frightened, you look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“Or something…” Tadashi says under his breath. First Kyoutani, and now Yahaba? Was Tadashi suddenly about to meet Oikawa and the rest of the Seijoh gang now?

“Surprised I haven’t seen you at a game before,” Yahaba admits, patting down the empty seat beside him.

Tadashi takes a look at the stands swirling with people and decides that sitting with Yahaba might actually be a good idea.

“Tsukishima-kun has brought along most of his friends from high school for at least one game,” Yahaba explains. “Some of them are a lot worse than others. That baldy and his wife were the worst by far.”

Tadashi sort of chuckles at that before he allows himself to actually process what it means that Tsukishima’s been bringing people to games. This will be Tadashi’s first time actually watching a Frogs game. He’s seen snippets of gameplay online or at the end of the news, but he could never bring himself to sit down and watch a full game through. He wonders what’s changed.

“Who are you here for?” Tadashi asks, glancing over Yahaba once more. He can’t remember him too well from high school, but he can tell the man’s aged. He has shorter hair and a more pronounced jawline (or maybe it’s just set… does he seem agitated? Tadashi can’t tell). He also has a wedding ring on, even if he’s noticeably trying to hide it.

“I come out every once in a while to support Kyoutani,” Yahaba explains.

As if on cue, the lights begin to dim as the announcer’s voice comes over the speaker systems and begins introducing the game. They pump in high-energy music as people cheer over the anticipation alone.

The opposing team comes out first, a college team that’s ranked high enough to play against the pros in one of the inaugural exhibition matches before the actual start of the season. They go through each player, all of them tall and intimidating as they wave towards the crowds.

Next, the Frogs enter the court one by one, each repping the neon green uniforms with pride. Tadashi watches them all carefully, heart thumping in time with the music as the players do their best to impress the crowd. Koganegawa does some little dance number. Kyoutani gives a firm nod.

Then, Tsukishima emerges from the tunnel. He gives a simple wave, nothing too fancy or showy, and joins the rest of his team on the sidelines.

Ringing drowns out everything else around Tadashi as he squints, hoping to get somewhat of a better view, but he’s so far away and there’s nothing Tadashi _can_ do. Not that he wants to do anything. He doesn’t know, really.

Tadashi sucks in a breath through his nostrils, lets it hold and linger in his lungs, before blowing it out of his mouth. Shimada’s years old advice on how to properly breathe before a serve comes back to him. The older Tadashi got, the more they focused on the intricate details that came with perfecting his serve. Breathing was one of the most crucial tools.

Yahaba gives him a weary glance. “You’re a nervous guy, aren’t you?”

“Sometimes…?” Tadashi responds, a little jarred.

Yahaba lets out a little _hmm,_ and takes that as his cue to open up a conversation. Tadashi had never talked with the Seijoh alum beyond tiny interactions on the court, so he’s surprised to discover how similar they are. Even as the game begins and Koganegawa goes for his first serve, the two remain talking between the captivating parts of the games.

Tadashi becomes quiet at some moments. He’s drawn in by the expert blocks and the quick sets. Yahaba’s engaged with other things. Noticeably, it’s always the powerful spikes that elicit reactions that easily expose his excitement.

It’s especially noticeable when Kyoutani is up to serve. Out of the corner of Tadashi’s eye, he watches as Yahaba clasps his hands together, brimming with palpable anticipation. He leans forward, the action so slight it’s barely noticeable as he presses the lower half of his face into his hands. His eyes are completely locked on the court below.

Tadashi follows his sightline only to find Kyoutani doing a similarly posed motion. While he might be making contact with the ball instead of his hands, the movement still holds the same quiet intimacy of Yahaba’s.

For a moment, Tadashi almost swears he hears Yahaba whisper something. But if there are words, they’re lost amongst the cheers of the crowd and the whistle signalling the serving period.

Kyoutani takes a visible breath and opens his eyes to stare down the court. He tosses the ball, taking powerful lunging steps before vaulting himself into the air. His back creates an incredible arc, almost unnatural in its posing, before the ball is promptly launched across the court and onto the floor of the opposite team’s side.

The whistle chirps and the crowd goes wild. Kyoutani is flooded with approval from his teammates, but he shoots a glance into the stands and for a moment Tadashi thinks he’ll finally be immortalized in stone. But he quickly realizes the gaze wasn’t for him, but rather the person beside him.

The same person who practically has hearts in his eyes and is overflowing with love to the point where Tadashi’s surprised the whole stadium can’t see how obvious they are.

Kyoutani returns to his position and retrieves the ball. Undergoing the same routine, Yahaba mirrors him once more. Despite the crowd and cameras, it’s as if Tadashi’s intervened on some wholly private moment. He doesn’t want to disturb them, even if their gestures are so delicately small.

Kyoutani serves again to score yet another service ace. Hollers and cheers are the response, as well as a time-out from the opponents.

Yahaba sort of relaxes as the players start their huddle on the sideline.

“Your husband’s serves are great,” Tadashi mentions cheekily.

“Aren’t they?” Yahaba says dreamily before realization crashes in and he whips his head around. “Don’t ever say that again,” he threatens once he deems no one else heard what Tadashi said.

“You could have told me you were married,” Tadashi assures, hoping that Morikatsu won’t come back for a while. Tadashi’s absolutely fascinated by successful couples, especially between people he knows. While he may not be particularly close with Yahaba or Kyoutani, the whole idea of their relationship is still too interesting to miss out on.

Yahaba shakes his head. “Actually, I can’t. The less people that know, the better.” “Why?”

Yahaba leans back a little as he idly spins around his wedding ring. “Well now you’re another accomplice in the Sendai Frogs’ biggest and most incriminating secret. They can come back from a doping scandal in the 90’s, but they’d rather have their entire team die in a bus crash than admit to the public that their star ace is secretly a house husband.”

Tadashi turns his eyes back towards the court. Kyoutani is discussing something with Tsukishima, the conversation lost by distance.

He can’t imagine what it would be like to hide your entire life from the public eye. To always be afraid of scrutiny or messing up. To constantly be aware of your surroundings and fearful of what others might see.

In a way though, isn’t that what Tadashi’s already doing to himself?

Tadashi clenches his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Yahaba’s eyebrows lift. “Thank you… I guess. Don’t feel pity for us though. We’re still very happy.”

“It’s not pity for you,” Tadashi explains, trying to find the most coherent words, “but it’s more a disappointment in the world. You should be able to do whatever you want without worrying about the consequences.”

“Can anyone _really_ do whatever they want though?” Yahaba retorts.

Tadashi frowns. “I guess not…” Yahaba sort of smirks. “It’s okay, Yamaguchi-kun. You shouldn’t get all upset over someone else’s situation.”

“It still seems unfair.” “Unfortunately, life is just like that sometimes.”

The whistle goes off and the players flood the court once more. And while Yahaba keeps his gaze fixed on his husband’s next serve, Tadashi uses the opportunity to observe the man sitting beside him. Because even though Yahaba’s maybe only a year older than Tadashi, there’s an undeniable sense of wisdom that seems to pour out. Could it be that he’s truly lived so much life that he can now offer up free advice to poor men like Tadashi who can never seem to get their act together?

Tadashi is 25.

According to his father’s standards, he should already be married and have a child on the way. Not that Tadashi ever really listened to his father, but this archaic mindset has somehow ingrained itself into Tadashi. He wouldn’t mind a wife or a child, but it's the age demarcated that particularly catches him off guard. He’ll be turning 26 in a few months. Maybe his father will call to tell Tadashi how disappointed he is. Maybe he’ll just call for once.

A part of Tadashi had hoped his life would somehow magically get better this year. For once, he thought he could get his shit together. For once, he foolishly believed things would change.

Morikatsu slides into the seat next to Tadashi, stirring him out of his own destructive thoughts. “What’d I miss? Are we winning?” He asks between bites of popcorn.

“Not much and yes,” Tadashi responds easily.

The Frogs are in the middle of some long rally. The crowd waits, learning forward and hearts collectively gripped with positive apprehension, as the opposing team slams the ball back into their court. But the libero makes yet another miraculous save and Koganegawa pulls off a quick set to Kyoutani in the back row. The ball doesn’t have enough power though, and it’s sent flying as a chance ball and Tadashi finds himself enthralled with the game like the rest of the people around him and he waits, not-so-patiently, as the opposing setter gives the ace a perfect toss and the player soars into the air, muscles contracting to form a stretching C before he slams it down over the net—but a pair of taped hands stop the ball before it can manage, and Tsukishima stands victorious as the receivers fail to pick up the ball and the Frogs score yet another point.

Tadashi leans back into his seat. He can feel Yahaba’s curious gaze on him, but he says nothing.

Morikatsu isn’t quite so kind. “Wow, you really like volleyball, huh Yama-kun?”

Tadashi awkwardly readjusts his position. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good game.” “His high school team went to Nationals,” Yahaba adds chirpily as retribution from earlier as he takes a sip of his beer

“You know, my basketball team went to Nationals too,” Morikatsu responds, already daydreaming about his past. “It was my second year and I was the Point Guard. My school was a bit of an underdog team but we had a pair of first years come through who were just _incredible._ I…”

Tadashi zones out of Morikatsu’s long-winded story that he’s heard countless times before and turns his focus back to the game. The other team’s already gone through their turn so the Frog’s Outside Hitter is up to serve. Tsukishima takes his position.. He carefully places his hands on the back of his head, a habit he formed years ago after seeing Hinata’s serve crash into Kageyama.

For a moment, just a brief millisecond really, Tadashi allows himself to imagine what it would be like on the court.

With the roaring approval of thousands of fans and the sticky smell of salon-pas filling up his lungs, it's _Tadashi_ that lets out a deep breath as the ref calls for the serve. He opens his eyes to see Tsukki grinning oh-so-gingerly as Tadashi nods to himself. Because he can do this. He’s done this a million times before and he’ll do it a million times more if it means that Tsukki’s right in front of him.

He tosses the ball into the air, letting it leave his calloused fingertips at the perfect moment. It gets decent air and Tadashi just _knows_ that the serve will go well. He follows after the ball, powerful legs propelling him forward until he takes flight with the rest of Karasuno screaming his name.

The air is weightless and Tadashi grins as he taps the ball just enough to project it to the very top of the net. It catches there, threatening to drop onto their side but eventually bending to Tadashi’s will as it hits down on the Itachiyama court.

Their Middle Blocker barely has enough time to react, hastily sending the ball back to the setter and thus putting himself out of commission. There’s only one place the ball can go as the setter gives it to the ace as he leaps into the air. The path has been carved and while he tries to slam the shaky ball, a firm set of hands appear out of the air to create an unstoppable force.

 _Tsukki’s blocks are the best,_ Tadashi tells himself wistfully.

They call out the point for Karasuno just as Tsukki lands on the ground. He turns to Tadashi with a confident smirk and holds out his hand for a high-five. Tadashi gladly accepts and Tsukki compliments him, “Nice serve.”

“Thanks, Tsukki!” The words are light and easy on Tadashi’s lips. A promise, almost, to always call him by that name.

Tadashi giggles a little as Kageyama tosses him the ball for another point. If the whole world was watching Tadashi and Tsukki’s combination, he’d make it worth their while. After all, they were the spear and shield. The serve and block. They were Tadashi and Kei and—

Tadashi zones back in as the solid _thud_ from Tsukki’s actual block pulls him out of his memories. Maybe he let himself go for a little longer than a millisecond…

He silently observes as Tsukishima gives a high-five to the Middle Blocker before promptly returning to his own spot. Tadashi feels his hands involuntarily clench into fists but he can’t understand why.

Why is he being so dramatic? Why can’t he talk to Tsukishima like a normal adult? Why can’t he simply move on from whatever hell Tadashi is putting himself through? “Tsukishima’s blocks are some of the best,” Yahaba comments as he gives Tadashi a pointed look.

Tadashi feigns a smile. “Ts—ah… yeah. They’ve always been great.”

Yahaba’s too smart and perceptive. “Yamaguchi-kun, why did you come tonight?” “For work,” Tadashi answers too quickly. He motions towards Morikatsu as some sort of physical proof.

Yahaba makes a _hmm_ sound, almost like he’s tracking Tadashi’s movements. He disregards it for now, and talks with Morikatsu between sets. The former basketball star gets bored easily though and leaves to go talk with more of the vendors.

Tadashi and Yahaba remain, eyes glued onto the game even as the Frogs effortlessly destroy the college team. Maybe it isn’t so fair to force their fight considering the Frogs’ high ranking, but the game is enjoyable nonetheless. There’s a few good rallies and plenty of exciting points, but ultimately it isn’t such a surprise when the Frogs reach game point in only the third set.

Tadashi should be paying attention to how the Outside Hitter’s about to make his next jump serve, but his mind is still caught up in his daydream from before. Tadashi can’t get that feeling out of his chest though. The intense, everpresent _longing_ for a time and a place untouched by the realities of the world.

So much of high school, especially his third year, remained in this perfect little bubble. The bad memories had been sanded away with the years, leaving in its stead only the truly amazing times where Tadashi was filled with vigor and youth. The slap of a ball on his hand, the laugh that rang out on neighborhood streets, the stupid jokes Hinata would attempt to tell, the awful smiles Kageyama would give to smooth over his shortcomings, the soothing advice and warm presence of Yachi… all of it was miraculous and special. It couldn’t be touched or tainted but also it couldn’t be reclaimed.

No matter how many times Tadashi saw them after graduation, it wasn’t the same. Those three years they spent together were like a time capsule of their adolescence.

And then there’s Tsukishima.

Tsukishima, who embodies what it means to grow up. Tsukishima, who was at Tadashi’s side for every one of those great memories. Tsukishima, who was so often the cause of the things Tadashi has tried his best to forget.

Tadashi returns his attention back to the game. Tsukishima’s intensely focused and dripping with sweat, oblivious to the fact that Tadashi’s even among the crowd of spectators.

Tadashi has always been like this though. A step behind, and unable to touch without leaving behind his own tarnish. Truly, their whole lives have been a series of blights. How much longer must he—

The whistle blows a long chord. The game’s won. The Frogs are victorious another day.

“What a gorgeous play,” Yahaba whistles.

“Yeah…” Tadashi agrees, peering down to the court to make sense of the last minute. The Frogs are rushing Tsukishima. He must have scored the last point. Tadashi missed it.

How strange.

The audience collectively rises from their seats and heads towards the crowded gates, creating a traffic jam for an exit. Tadashi rises to join them when his phone buzzes. It’s a text message from Morikatsu.

To: Yama-kun!

_Sorry to leave you but hope you find your own ride home! Got some important business to take care of._

[image attached]

Tadashi clicks on the image to see Morikatsu posing towards the camera with the popcorn vendor girl at his side. He sighs and pockets his phone.

“I usually wait until it’s cleared out a bit more,” Yahaba explains as he still sits in his seat. “I don’t like being around that many people all at once.” Tadashi nods and rejoins Yahaba in sitting. They don’t talk as the people file out; they simply reminisce on their own days of playing on that court.

And when the last dregs of people manage to leave the stadium, Tadashi follows Yahaba through the gate and to a different tunnel from before. He figures with as many games he’s been to, Yahaba must be an expert on maneuvering through the crowds. Sure enough, less and less people swarm them as they wind through passageways Tadashi never knew existed.

They go through another door and find themselves in a wide tunnel with concrete walls and a parade of second-string players leaving the stadium. They make idle chatter, not noticing the two men even as they wait for… something. Further on, the tunnel leads to what Tadashi can only guess is the court. In the opposite direction, it opens out to a loading dock before dropping off into a secluded parking lot.

“What are we doing?” Tadashi asks, standing up on his toes to see over the players. They’re trailed by trainers and other associates that Tadashi can only assume is the promotional team. He even sees a few colleagues from his meetings with Aiko; they give him firm nods and seem to not question why he’s here in the first place.

“We’re waiting,” Yahaba answers and doesn’t offer anything else up.

They wait until lines of people have passed through. Even Koganegawa stops to say hi, excited to see Tadashi at the game. He begins to chat, but he’s pulled away by one of his teammates in order to get celebratory drinks.

A familiar face enters from an opposing door. There’s no hesitancy in the way Yahaba rushes to meet Kyouhaba with a horde of kisses and a lovesick smile. They’re so enamored with one another, it feels like Tadashi’s intruding on their private moment.

That’s why they waited. Yahaba didn’t want to be seen by the masses.

But… why is Tadashi still here? The couple turns to him and Yahaba waves him over. “You remember Kentaro, right?”

“Hi,” Tadashi says, swallowing down his nervousness. Kyoutani grunts in acknowledgement.

“Have a way to get home?” Yahaba asks.

Tadashi nods. “I’ll take the train again.” “Are you going to come to a real game this season?” Yahaba teases. “I promise they get a lot better as they go along. Maybe the players will even stop stealing tosses that aren’t theirs.” “It was one time,” Kyoutani argues.

“Mmm,” Yahaba responds, winking at Tadashi. He flicks his eyes over to Kyoutani and despite his tone, gives him a wholesome look that reveals there’s no true malice in his words. Just the genuine desire for him to improve day after day.

“See you later, Yamaguchi-kun,” Yahaba says with a wave. He interlocks his other hand into Kyoutani’s, who similarly gives him a simple, “Goodbye.”

Tadashi watches as they leave. They bump into each other with their shoulders and do a terrible job in hiding their relationship. Tadashi supposes there are only a few places where they can truly be free; perhaps in the secrecy of the tunnel they can act as they please as they head off.

“Yamaguchi?”

Tadashi’s heart plummets.

He’s being dramatic. He knows he is. He knows this is some big overreaction and that nothing is wrong and that he’s fine and that Yachi warned him about things going badly and he assured her that they wouldn’t and Tadashi is simply being dramatic.

He turns to face Tsukishima. Perhaps he is a ghost after all. He’s pale in the fading light, ethereal and unreal. Truly, a phantom of Tadashi’s past.

He is some made-up figment of Tadashi’s imagination designed to make him experience his full range of emotions. Because as much as Tadashi would like to write off Tsukishima’s presence as completely horrible, the tragedy lies in the fact that he _can’t._

A handful of bad experiences, many of which came about due to Tadashi’s own shortcomings, simply could not erase literal years of memories with Tsukishima. From the moment they first met to the day it all came crashing down, Tsukishima was there every step of the way.

Maybe Tadashi should leave before his body betrays him.

“Hi,” Tadashi answers. He rocks back and forth on his heels.

Tsukishima looks around the tunnel. They’re the only ones still left.

“What are you doing here?” “I watched the game,” Tadashi responds. “You did well. Your serve looked nice.” “Thank you,” Tsukishima responds.

Outside, cicadas fill the night with their melancholic song of the trailing summer. While the heat curls and presses against Tadashi’s neck, he listens to the cicadas as a reprieve from the burning situation in front of him.

In the foreground, fireflies dance and flicker, fading in and out of view. They mark the evening with their telltale luminesce, a reminder of juvenile excursions where they’d use to catch the little creatures in jars. They never could contain them.

Back before Tsukishima was Tsukki, he was Kei-kun, and Tadashi hoped to capture them solely for the namesake. The young Kei-kun would brush off the compliments, even as Tadashi explained how he was prettier than any cool firefly.

But like the fireflies, Tsukishima flickers between reality and dreams as ever-changing as his names. Kei-kun… Tsukki… _Kei…_ Tsukishima…

“How have you been?” Tsukishima asks. Tadashi’s lured back into reality.

“I’m fine. And you?”

“I’m okay.”

It's eerie. Isn’t this the boy Tadashi used to talk to for hours?

“I better head out,” Tsukishima says, readjusting the strap to his gym bag. He’d changed out of his uniform and into an oversized jacket with sweatpants completely inappropriate for the season. _He always did have cold hands,_ Tadashi tells himself. He forces away the desire to find out if they’re still cold.

Tsukishima passes by him, steps slow and deliberate as he heads off towards the opening. Tadashi silently follows after him, the position disturbingly familiar.

They both pause as they reach the end of the loading dock. Tadashi peers up to find the full moon staring down at them, casting everything in shadows of soft white. Tsukishima side steps and heads towards the stairs.

“Hey… ah…”

Tadashi reaches his hand out as Tsukishima pauses in his motions. Together, they’re alone and remain with their futile devices. _This is dangerous_ , Tadashi idly thinks to himself, as Yachi’s warning from before rings through his mind.

But Tsukishima is standing there, the man he’s always recognized but maybe never known, and Tadashi is struck by this insatiable desire to _connect._ He wants nothing more than to understand who this stranger is.

Friendship didn’t work for them. Neither did romance.

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

The voice is so fragile and tiny, Tadashi nearly doesn’t even recognize it as his own. Because those aren’t his thoughts or intentions. A traitorous mind, pulled from the recess of Tadashi’s suppressed memories from a time he’s tried so hard to forget. But it’s his words nonetheless, evident from the sharp rise in eyebrows and quick blush that dots Tsukishima’s ears.

Despite the ashamed, disgusted eyes Tsukishima may have given him weeks ago, there’s no denying that this could _actually_ work. It has to work. It’s what they both want… or at least what Tsukishima does…

Or… does he?

“What?” Tsukishima asks, voice equally as soft as Tadashi’s as if a loud noise would shatter the pretense.

Tadashi swallows, blinks, and slowly reconsiders his next sentence. The first might have been a gut reaction, something he couldn’t control and didn’t know how to stop but he’s fully aware now of what’s going on and understands that the words about to leave his lips will indeed be among his last.

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

An infinite, sprawling cosmos lies between them. What used to be the distance from one planet to another has been stretched to galaxies and star systems composed of years of misunderstandings and miscommunications.

Tadashi reminds himself that they are adults. They’ve grown over the last near decade. There’s no need to act irrationally or illogically. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea…

Or perhaps it’s the only idea Tadashi had left. Because even though he may be thousands of nebulas away from Tsukishima, there’s still some connection left. One small step forward to make a giant leap.

Tsukishima answers, saying the word Tadashi feared most but knew was inevitably coming. And although Tadashi is often afraid of the words he cannot say, his fears of what others _can_ say have a tendency to frighten him the most. Because Tsukishima is there, speaking, and agreeing with a nod of his head and the only answer he can give.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow 
> 
> oh woooooow
> 
> anyway follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/copyrightings_) for more shenanigans


	4. oldest tradition known to my skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Kei, who makes Tadashi come undone, seam by agonizing seam like he’s a fragile doll to be played with. It’s nearly childish the manner in which Kei claims Tadashi as his own; pushing and prodding at all of his buttons, knowing exactly when it’s right to twist and turn. Tadashi’s limp in his arms, a marionette pulled by strings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: SEXUAL CONTENT 
> 
> the content for the first half of this chapter is E. however, due to the nature of the rest of the fic, I am going to keep the overall rating as M. if you would like to skip over the E sexual content, please look for the first page break. the tags will be updated to reflect the shift.
> 
> thank you all so much for reading so far. i appreciate all of the love this has gotten :)
> 
> also, chapter title from as tradition by maple glider

Sober. 

Tadashi is stone-cold sober as he climbs inside Tsukishima’s new car so they can head off to his apartment. He’s sober as they make quiet talk during the drive, mostly allowing the noise of the road fill the gaps of where their conversations used to exist. He’s sober even as he walks inside Tsukishima’s apartment and politely declines something to drink. 

He’s made a lot of bad decisions when he was belligerently drunk. He’s had a lot of hookups. He’s had a lot of scares. Tadashi has let his inhibitions run wild at those times, and allowed the alcohol to ease him into even the most uncomfortable of situations. Sometimes, it’s simply easier to let life take its course. Erasing all the pent-up anxiety from his system can be so _freeing._ Honestly, Tadashi’s surprised that he’s not a full-blown alcoholic by now. 

Regardless, Tadashi is sober as he affirms his decision and steps further inside the apartment, padding around softly so he doesn’t disturb the novel climate. The place is huge for Sendai: an open seating area with an expansive kitchen and long dining table. Wide windows along the back wall show off the cityscape twinkling from glimpses of neon signs and flickering street lamps. The apartment is all modern and Western, a lot different from Tadashi’s more traditional place. Although, he supposes they both exist in spaces far too large for sole occupants. 

Tsukishima is sober too. He, like Tadashi, is fully aware of the effects that one too many drinks can have on their relationship. It’s a mutual understanding between them that the fogginess provided by alcohol isn’t needed to ease them into this situation. Really, it’s no surprise that they both silently walk into the night completely and utterly sober. 

Tadashi idly wonders if he should back down. Is there really a point in having meaningless sex when they both know it isn’t so meaningless? By proposing all of this, isn’t Tadashi opening himself up for pain once more? But, then again, how much worse can it get?

Tsukishima seems nervous. Not pre-game nervous, when he’s focused on thinking on what’s to come and how to logically assess their situation. Not even as nervous as he’d used to get when they would have to do public speaking in class. No, it’s a special type of nervosity that Tadashi doesn’t know how to deal with because it’s a little too close to his own anxious behaviors. 

Tsukishima points him down the hallway. “You can wash up beforehand, if you’d like,” he offers quietly. 

“Okay.”

Tadashi steps into the bathroom and hastily closes the door behind him. He stares at himself in the mirror for longer than necessary, taking in every centimeter of himself and determining whether he deemed it worthy enough to be seen. 

He’s changed a lot since high school, or so he’s been told. He can’t see the subtle differences considering the minute changes have been gradual over the last few years. Yachi has mentioned on multiple occasions how he’s grown up. Tadashi doesn’t know what that means exactly. 

Tadashi washes his face and scrounges around until he manages to find a new toothbrush. He takes his time getting ready, focusing less on presentation and more on mental preparation. 

_This is a trap,_ he tells himself. _You put yourself here once again. It’s all your fault. What are you even doing?_

Tadashi doesn’t have answers or reasoning. He does, however, have a tug in his abdomen that leads him out the bathroom door to face whatever divine hell Tadashi has created for himself. 

Tsukishima’s at the bedside drawer. He pulls out a box of condoms and a bottle of lube. 

Tadashi knows what’s to come and yet the closer they get, the more he questions why he wants this so badly. He could easily call the whole thing off and forget the suggestion in the first place, but Tadashi’s mind is full of thoughts about how Tsukishima’s curls would appear sprawled out on the bed sheets.

Tadashi clears his throat to announce his presence. He shuffles closer as Tsukishima turns to face him. They share a prolonged stare and a silent acknowledgement of the events about to ensue. 

“Are you sure about this?” Tsukishima asks. 

Tadashi swallows hard, feeling the weight of Tsukishima’s gaze on him, like he’s something to be observed. 

“Sure… yeah, I mean, _yes._ Are _you_ sure about this?”

Tsukishima nods. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Tadashi offers. It’s the last chance they truly have because once they begin, there’s no stopping the seismic collision.

“I want to,” Tsukishima affirms, shaking away the nervous energy from earlier. The words are soft, a cadence sung for confirmation. 

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

Tsukishima makes the first move. He slowly edges around the bed and comes to meet Tadashi at the foot. They inch closer together. The pose, Tsukishima looking down with careful eyes, is all too familiar. Tadashi aches to get closer.

Tsukishima, reaching out with his shaky hand, grasps Tadashi’s arm right above the elbow. His grip is light, but strong enough to keep Tadashi in place. Not like he’d want to be anywhere but right here, right now. 

Carefully, Tsukishima leans forward, keeping their eyes locked until the very last moment. He lets his blonde eyelashes drop and presses a chaste kiss to Tadashi’s lips. 

_It’s nothing special,_ Tadashi tells himself to calm the swarming fury of emotions threatening to take over. _It’s nothing new._

The rhythm, pre-rehearsed and established after years of practice sessions, is already common knowledge. It’s a slow, tender sort of night. While Tadashi wishes they could go faster to the point where he’s fucked so well his brain can’t compute, Kei has other plans. His kisses are delicate and effortlessly soft, reminiscent of their first more-than-friendly rendezvous. 

Tadashi goes a bit onto his toes to deepen their connection, swiping his tongue over the seam and pressing inside. Tsukishima makes a noise at the back of his throat, but ultimately allows it to happen. Looping his fingers through those glorious blonde curls, Tadashi drags Tsukishima in and tilts his head down even more. If it’s forceful, he doesn’t want to apologize. All Tadashi can do is think about the hot lips against his own and hope that logic doesn’t catch up with him anytime soon. 

Tsukishima’s fingers find their usual spot as they trail down Tadashi’s waist. He clutches at his hips, breaking their contact to force a little smile against Tadashi’s lips. Tadashi kisses the interlude away. 

If Tadashi was in his right mind, he could have still backed out. But Tadashi’s brain is possessed by desire alone, so he lets Tsukishima lead him backwards onto the bed. He’s forced all the way to the headboard, Tsukishima chasing his taste. 

It’s all fuzzy. 

The feelings locked away in his chest. The cold rush of air as Tsukishima helps to remove his shirt and pants. The way Tsukishima’s strong thighs press against his hip bones as he straddles him. The unbreakable, fervent gaze Tsukishima gives when he leans back to take Tadashi in.

It’s a fuzzy, fuzzy thing, like static on a television, when Tadashi thinks it through. But he doesn’t. And he keeps _going._

Tadashi gives Tsukishima another kiss, indulging in the moment. He aids in helping to strip his layers, deft fingers making lazy work. Tadashi also has the honor of removing Tsukishima’s glasses and sets them on the nightstand. It’s the last sort of step in their system, because everything changes when Tsukishima glares at him unobstructed. 

He’s the guide for the night, even though the proposal was Tadashi’s suggestion. He sort of enjoys seeing how Tsukishima undergoes his work; a man so unused to exerting effort now takes the time to invoke mutual satisfaction? Tadashi’s grateful to whoever was able to spark the motivation in Tsukishima, seeing as he’s now the one to reap the benefits. 

Tsukishima works slowly and methodically as he kisses Tadashi. Tadashi can already feel himself getting hard, but Tsukishima evidently doesn’t care and continues to ignore it as his pecks trail down his jawline and onto his neck. 

When he finally does pull back, he briefly pauses to whisper in Tadashi’s ear, his voice coarse and stimulating. 

_“Fuck.”_

Tadashi shivers as the words echo, and relishes as _Tsukishima_ is stripped away.

 _Kei_ emerges, eager and familiar, as he goes down Tadashi again. 

They’re still strangers to one another, of course, but the planes and contours of each other’s skins are confidential information exposed only now in the guise of the moonlight. They’re still strangers, and yet they know the other inside and out.

Reason and all forms of logic break down, as Kei continues to suck on that tender spot at the base of Tadashi’s neck, declaring ownership over something he has no right over. Tadashi lets it happen, whimpering at the sensation because it feels so fucking _good_ he really doesn’t mind. His mind’s clouded with euphoria, only able to properly perceive the body above him. 

It’s all _Kei, Kei, Kei_ and _more, more, more._

It’s Kei, who makes Tadashi come undone, seam by agonizing seam like he’s a fragile doll to be played with. It’s nearly childish the manner in which Kei claims Tadashi as his own; pushing and prodding at all of his buttons, knowing exactly when it’s right to twist and turn. Tadashi’s limp in his arms, a marionette pulled by strings. 

Thing is, Tadashi _enjoys_ it. 

He revels in the featherlight touches of Kei’s tongue swiping wherever it damn pleases. Tadashi moans, unable to take the blatant neglect anymore. Kei’s never been particularly caring for others, but his meticulous attention to detail here is absolutely infuriating. 

His slender, nimble fingers traverse every nook and cranny, making fine work as Kei schlicks them with lube and helps to open him up. Tadashi bites down on his hand to stop himself from making any more obscene noises, but Kei stops him by delicately taking his wrist and pressing a kiss into his palm. 

It’s far too intimate. The feeling of Kei’s fingers wrapping inside of him, the affectionate look in Kei’s eyes. Truly, Tadashi’s gotten himself spellbound. 

Tadashi takes matters into his own hands. 

He forces Kei underneath him and strokes his cock a few times for good measure. He’s already leaking with precum, and Tadashi takes a moment to put on a condom before they go any further. 

Kei looks up at him, eyes wide and devoted, as Tadashi sinks down centimeter by aching centimeter. It may be an excruciating pace for them both, but the fulfilling pressure of Kei hitting just right allows Tadashi to revel in every single press and prod.

 _“Fuck,”_ Kei hisses once more, needy and urgent. He picks up their rhythm, driving into Tadashi until his legs begin to shake. 

Tadashi’s too desperate. He knows he is because, _fuck,_ why wouldn’t he be? But he asks for more and more, even if the words aren’t vocalized. 

Kei thumbs over Tadashi’s hip, grinding with all the ardor of a proper lover. Tadashi looks back at his hand for a moment, before meeting those golden eyes. A silent conversation ensues, enunciated in actuality with moans and exasperated breaths. 

_You still have this?_ Kei asks, eyebrows turning upwards. 

He’s referring to an old scar Tadashi had gotten years ago. They’d both fallen from the big tree in Kei’s backyard and ended up with semi-matching scars. While Tadashi’s jagged mark was hidden away most days, it’s now uncovered by only the most private of companions. 

Tadashi nods before dipping his head back as Kei pushes in a bit further. _Never went away._

Kei takes that as his opportunity to switch positions, gently laying Tadashi on the bed while he looks on from above. He raises Tadashi’s leg, using the opportunity to press a light kiss against his ankle before rolling his hips forward and _thrusting_ until Tadashi makes downright vile sounds he’s incapable of controlling. 

All Tadashi wants is _more._ Kei provides. 

He _finally_ touches Tadashi, strokes in line with the undulations of his hips. It’s a lot happening all at once but Tadashi would be amiss if he claimed disdain.

Once again, they’ve found themselves in a dangerous arrangement. Once again, Tadashi has disregarded the mistakes of his past in order to seek _something_ he knows he cannot claim. And, once again, Tadashi hopes for a different result but is fully aware that change is not always inevitable. 

Tadashi looks up to the ceiling, stars dancing before his eyes out of his own ecstasy of pleasure. A release, as he’s overtaken by a buzzing bliss. 

A name rolls off his tongue, short and sweet and relentlessly desperate.

_“Kei.”_

After all, the press of lips and the cascading touches across planes of skin is a tradition known too well by them both. A tradition that dates years and experiences, the last thing to connect them before it all went wrong. 

And, after all, the whole experience, despite the initial hesitation and awkwardness, is strangely comforting to Tadashi. Seeing Kei like this, stripped bare and utterly ruined as his own pleasure mounts, is a sight Tadashi’s frankly aware he can never get enough of. 

_Fuck._

Kei pulls out and collapses beside Tadashi. They lay there for more than a few moments, and Tadashi can feel the tendrils of sleep calling to him despite his active efforts to stay awake. 

Even as they’re panting side by side, chests rising in tandem, there’s a familiarity in it all. For a brief moment, a sense of belonging tugs at Tadashi. It pulls, taut and captivating, even if Tadashi’s completely out of his element. Despite the fact that he’s unsure if the man that lies beside him is still the same Kei he knew so many years ago. Despite the fact Tadashi doesn’t quite understand himself. 

Despite it all, Tadashi feels like he’s at home.

Kei slides out of bed and returns a few moments later with clean towels and some water. Tadashi pushes himself into a sitting position and takes the items. They both spare a moment to clean off, recharge, and contemplate what happened. 

He can feel Tsukishima’s eyes upon him, digging into his back. He meets the glare, surprised to find it’s rather… soft. 

There are words Tadashi supposes he must say in order to prevent this occurrence again. There isn’t necessarily a proper way to go about it though, considering he’s always been awful at ending their affair. 

“Are you alright?” Kei says, voice a little rough. Tadashi wishes he didn’t find that incredibly alluring.

“I’m good,” Tadashi assures, nodding his head. The faint trail of a smile rises onto Kei’s lips. 

“Want to go again?”

Tadashi sort of scoffs at the suggestion. “Not all of us have the stamina of a professional athlete.”

Kei laughs, exasperated but full. Tadashi can feel his heart sink at the euphony. 

“Didn’t you used to last longer?” Kei asks, raising a brow. 

“Didn’t you used to be nicer?” Tadashi retorts. 

Kei raises an eyebrow and moves to get closer to Tadashi. His half-lidded gaze is intoxicating, even as Tadashi is still sober. 

“Who knows…”

Kei kisses him again. Tadashi doesn’t pull away. 

No, he doesn’t stop Kei from traversing over his body once more. He doesn’t stop Kei as he strokes him once, twice, thrice, before bowing down and letting his mouth do the rest of the work until Tadashi’s cock is nice and firm again. He doesn’t stop Kei from blowing him until he’s almost sent tumbling over the edge, before he abruptly pulls back with a devious grin slapped over his spit-covered lips. He doesn’t stop Kei from fingering himself, noisy and erotic, as they keep careful eye contact. And he certainly doesn’t stop Kei from straddling over him and sinking down on his throbbing cock. 

Tadashi can’t take it anymore. He still has some energy and he’ll make it count. He thrusts, driving forward until Kei bottoms out and audibly whines. 

Kei, a celestial body, hovers above him all ivory and gold. Even the most talented sculptors wouldn’t be able to create a form like this. Kei is a masterpiece all his own, crescents formed with the arch of his back and the curve of his neck. Tadashi’s briefly thankful Kei never stopped playing or else these defined pecs and abdominals wouldn’t be the exquisite spectacle they are.

There’s something so inherently _lewd_ about the sight. Kei, who is always precisely composed, has been beautifully laid bare all for Tadashi’s own amusement. A sacred, holy thing for only the most private of exhibitions. Would the world think of him differently if they knew renowned Tsukishima Kei was particularly excellent at sucking dick and even better at bottoming out?

Kei glances down at Tadashi, all feverish and hot. He smirks, _smirks,_ and lets out an ungodly mewl that Tadashi wants to live in. He grabs Kei by the neck and forces him downward until their lips are able to meet once again. 

As Kei rides him like that, good and obscene, Tadashi might have finally lost his mind. 

All he can think is, _I’m fucked._

\---

Tadashi rubs at his eyes with the base of his palm; they pull back wet. He probably looks like a fucking wreck. 

He peeks over at Kei… at _Tsukishima,_ who’s lying on his stomach with the back of his head turned to Tadashi. 

They both must have passed out. Everything from the last few hours is a bit of a blur; Tadashi doesn’t know if that’s his subconscious already attempting to repress it or if the satisfaction was enough to smooth over all of the painful patches. 

Tadashi realizes that he’s clean. The worst part about his recent development of low stamina is the awful feeling of waking up sticky and disgusting, but Tsukishima must have cleansed him before taking his rest. 

How strange. 

Careful not to disturb Tsukishima, Tadashi crawls out of bed and retrieves his discarded pants from the floor. He finds his jacket only to pick out his pack of Seven Stars and his lighter. 

He tip-toes through the apartment, scared he’ll accidentally knock something over despite the fact it's relatively barren. Honestly, the only thing Tadashi finds is a couple of medals courtesy of the Frogs’ success over the last few years. 

Tadashi lets himself out through the French doors in the living room and onto the connected balcony. The wind’s picked up a little bit, the last legs of the late summer heat having disappeared this late at night. Tadashi’s always liked autumn, but he’s usually better prepared for it. A mere pair of pants doesn’t do much to protect his goosebump-lined arms. 

He takes out a cigarette, lights it, and looks over the city. Tsukishima’s apartment is relatively high-up; it’s not quite a penthouse, but still far enough that he has a beautiful view of Sendai. Tadashi inhales, long and drawn out, before puffing the smoke out. 

Standing there, with the city lying in front of him, Tadashi’s heart begins to rattle against his rib cage. It’s his anxiety over… well _everything…_ coming back. He can’t help but worry about what the morning will bring when all of Tadashi’s blunders are uncovered in the light. 

“When did you start smoking?”

Tadashi turns to see Tsukishima standing in the doorway in a mere pair of boxers and a thin shirt. He looks tiny despite the fact he’s… however tall he is…

Tsukishima’s height used to be a fact that Tadashi could spit out whenever needed to prove his worth, but the knowledge has been lost to time. He’s definitely bigger than he was in high school but Tadashi guesses he’s never stopped in the years since to measure his growth. 

“A couple of years ago,” Tadashi answers, trying not to be defensive. “I smoked a few times in college, but I didn’t really pick it up until after graduation.”

Tsukishima comes to rest against the railing, leaning on his elbows to diminish his own height. Tadashi sucks in another puff.

“Any other destructive behaviors you’ve picked up along the way?” Tsukishima asks. 

_This,_ Tadashi says to himself. Though he guesses the habit isn’t particularly new. 

“Just working too much,” Tadashi explains, trying to make it sound like a joke. Tsukishima doesn’t take it well. 

“What are you even doing?” He barks. And before Tadashi can attempt to defend himself, Tsukishima corrects, “With the Frogs. Koganegawa told me you’re working with us now.”

Right. Tsukishima hasn’t seen him in a professional setting yet. Tadashi seriously had no idea how he was supposed to go about his normal day, see Tsukishima, and act like he _didn’t_ know how the man looked when he’s getting fucked so hard he shakes beneath Tadashi.

“I’m originally on the marketing team, but now I’m co-liaison with someone from the Frogs to establish a working relationship with our programs,” Tadashi explains before taking another hit. “It’s not very interesting.”

“Why did you choose the Frogs?” Tsukishima eyes his reaction. 

“Out of my control,” Tadashi says truthfully. “I don’t know why they went with the Frogs though… It was a coincidence really.” That was the lie, woven in to not expose his embarrassing connection. 

Tsukishima doesn’t seem convinced. Tadashi doesn’t have it in him to change his opinion otherwise. 

“Let me have one of those,” Tsukishima instructs, motioning towards Tadashi’s cigarette. 

Tadashi presses brows together and warns, “They’re bad for you.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “I know that,” he responds flippantly. 

Tadashi sucks in. “So you shouldn’t be picking up bad habits,” he says, letting the smoke trail out with every word. “You’re supposed to be a professional volleyball player, not some chain-smoking idiot.”

“How is it that you can be so concerned with my health but have so little regard for your own?” Tsukishima asks, raising an eyebrow. He knows he’s won. 

Tadashi rests the cigarette between his teeth and stuffs his hand into his pocket to retrieve his pack of Seven Stars. He offers up a stick and Tsukishima takes it like he’s done this before. He leans in, and Tadashi uses his stem to ignite Tsukishima’s fresh cigarette. 

While Tsukishima takes care and cups his hand around the light, Tadashi looks at him like this. Long, blonde eyelashes downcast and intense focus on his feeble attempt to cure the flame. There’s a bit of a blemish between his furrowed brows; one Tadashi managed to miss from their intimacy before. The slight redness matches the red in his cheeks and on the top of his ears. He should really put a jacket on, even if it’s still the summer. He has cold hands and the last thing Tsukishima needed to do was to get sick at a time like this. 

The cigarette sparks and Tsukishima promptly steps back to take in a long drag. Tadashi huffs out his own and watches as Tsukishima coughs a little on the exhale. Maybe he’s not an expert after all. 

“When did you start?” Tadashi asks, eyes locked on the stick as Tsukishima raises it to his lips once more. 

“I never really did.” He takes a puff. “I only do it when someone else has some.”

“Didn’t take you as someone who’d go out of his way to ask others to help endorse a habit. Especially one with no clear end goal.”

“Didn’t take you as someone who’d start something you’re fully aware is detrimental.”

They both take a drag. Tadashi grovels himself with the bitter taste of tobacco that sticks on his tongue. 

“I guess we don’t know much about each other anymore,” Tadashi says smally, eyes fixed on the burning cigarette resting between his fingers.

“Guess so.”

It’s a scary thing to be unknown. The fear pools in the base of Tadashi’s stomach, maybe an adverse reaction to the cigarettes or anything else he’s consumed. He’s long considered him and Tsukishima strangers, but the truth of that statement is a reality Tadashi’s unwilling to face despite how long he’s existed in it. 

Sendai splays beneath them, quiet and asleep. The witching hour was made for the supernatural; Tadashi and Tsukishima are mere participants in the unholy acts. Perhaps the thin veil between the mythical and the physical is what allowed them to come together like this. Perhaps a meeting of the same fervor will never happen again. 

_That’s probably for the best,_ Tadashi tells himself as he takes another drag. His cigarette is almost down to the butt. 

“Why?” Tsukishima abruptly asks, disturbing their nighttime peace. 

“Why what?”

Tsukishima’s not looking at him. His eyes are fixated far beyond the horizon to where the sun will be rising in a few hours. For now, at least, the full moon keeps its vigil and oversees their dubious acts as it has done so many times before. Their relationship, or lack thereof really, flourishes like night-blooming cereus flowers; they prosper when the sky is dark and the world is asleep. It ends when dawn is set to break. 

Tsukishima’s voice is beautifully reticent when it asks, “Why did you want to sleep with me?”

Tadashi wishes he had an answer. He really does. Because Tsukishima deserves one if nothing else. 

Truth is, Tadashi _shouldn’t_ have wanted to do this. He’s supposed to be a businessman, built for his career. He’s supposed to have a wife and kids. His destiny had been laid out for him and nowhere in the equation did Tsukishima fit in. At least, not like _this._ They could have remained friends, of course, but Tsukishima never wanted that, did he? 

Nonetheless, here they are, reverting to old addictions under some futile attempt for… 

For _what?_

If Tadashi had just wanted pleasure, he could have found any other person in a bar and fucked them until the sun rose. If Tadashi had wanted trouble, he could have spilled some truths and attempted to reconcile everything when he became sober. If Tadashi had wanted a release, he could have just jerked himself off like any other lonely businessman until he’d come enough to forget why he was so horny in the first place. 

But Tadashi didn’t want any of those. Tadashi wanted… he wanted… he… 

Tadashi frowns. “I don’t know,” he says, hoping his sincerity can be heard. It’s cruel, but he adds, “Why did you agree?”

“I don’t know.”

What a pair of foolish children they are. 

“Do you regret it?” Tadashi questions. 

“No,” Tsukishima affirms, nodding his head and meeting Tadashi’s eyes. “I never have.”

A breath hitches in Tadashi’s throat. 

_Oh._

_Not this again._

“I think…” 

Tadashi’s overcome with a warm, familiar feeling. Something evocative that reminds him of childhoods spent looking for frogs and eating strawberry ice cream. He allows a smile to slip through, even if it’s small and slight. 

“I think I regret that time over winter break,” Tadashi reminisces. “When we almost got caught by Akiteru-san.”

Tsukishima lets out a noise crossed between a dismissal and a laugh. “Okay, other than _that,_ I don’t regret it.”

Tadashi allows his eyes to wander very briefly to catch a glimpse of Kei standing beside him. 

And oh how Tadashi knows this face. How Tadashi’s kisses had once grazed every centimeter, from the top of the forehead to the edge of the jawline. How Tadashi knows what words those lips may form; callous and tender and suggestive and content. How Tadashi has studied it through stolen glances in the classroom and indulging examinations as those golden eyes stared back. 

And oh, _oh,_ how Tadashi knows it is not his to keep. 

Tadashi takes a last drag before snuffing out the butt of his cigarette. “I should probably go…”

“You could stay,” Tsukishima offers, although there’s audible hesitancy in his voice. “I don’t mind…”

Tadashi recognizes the unwillingness, even if Tsukishima does his best to mask it. Maybe he still does know some things about Tsukishima… 

“It’s fine,” Tadashi assures. 

“The trains aren’t running.”

“I’ll walk.”

Tsukishima takes a step forward. Tadashi takes a step back. 

“You don’t even want a ride home?” Tsukishima questions. 

Tadashi shakes his head. “I’m fine. Really.”

Tadashi wishes he had a coherent reason to not want to stay. It’s not like he has work tomorrow or some other excuse to warrant sleeping in his own bed.

As much as Tadashi likes the idea of observing the sun peek over the high-rise city buildings, bathing Tsukishima’s wide-windowed apartment in shades of orange and pink, the thought is ultimately squashed by Tadashi’s own anxiety for what comes after. Do they eat breakfast together at Tsukishima’s kitchen counter? Does Tsukishima make him a cup of tea and pour himself a cup of coffee? Do they talk about everything that’s happened over the last nearly 26 years of their lives because they now have the time to explore one another? What happens then, if Tadashi regresses into the being he once was?

He can’t risk it anymore. 

“Okay,” Tsukishima says. 

He stuffs his cigarette on the ground and enters back into the apartment. Tadashi trails behind. 

He finds his remaining articles of clothing, slipping on a shirt and jacket still in the darkness. He leaves soon after, before Tsukishima can get a word in otherwise. 

Tadashi ends up taking a cab home. The driver is similarly silent as they wind through the streets, the sidewalks empty save for the occasional stranded passerby. 

When Tadashi arrives home, he realizes he’s grabbed the wrong shirt. It’s one of Tsukishima’s, obvious from the large Frogs logo stamped right on the front. He should have noticed sooner, considering the soft fabric and oversized fit were a big giveaway, but Tsukishima hadn’t said anything as he walked out the door. 

It smells like him. It’s sweet and comforting, the same scent Tsukishima’s had since childhood. Like the bedsheets Tadashi used to fall asleep in with Tsukishima at his side, even when they grew too old to be sharing a bed as friends. 

Tadashi doesn’t take the shirt off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :0
> 
> also, come follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/copyrightings_)! pretty sfw I promise


	5. perfect in the flash of light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t you think…” Tsukishima sighs and rubs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know…”
> 
> “Did you want something from me?” Tadashi asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello party people yall ready for another chapter?? yeah?? yeah?? 
> 
> also chapter title is from rearrange us by mt. joy

“I want a girlfriend!” Hinata shouted into the night, voice expanding over the neighborhood stores and suburban houses along the dead street. He let his pumped fists drop beside him in defeat as the universe did not immediately provide said request. 

Tadashi hushed him under a laugh as Yachi giggled alongside him. Somehow, the two of them had become the mediators for the group. Blame it on their roles as captain and manager, or maybe because they were the only ones with common sense. Tadashi didn’t mind being the voice of reason, but sometimes they were such a handful. He was seriously beginning to consider putting the team on toddler leashes so they wouldn’t wreak havoc on the general public. 

“Shut up, idiot!” Kageyama barked back, reaching to grab Hinata’s head, who ducked out of the setter’s grasp and repositioned himself to the center of the group. 

Tadashi stepped to the side to make room for Hinata, glancing up at Tsukki as they inched closer together. Tsukki smiled down, tiny and hidden, not letting the others see his reaction. 

“Don’t you want one too, Kageyama?” Hinata asked, genuinely curious. 

Kageyama huffed, “Why would I need a girlfriend? I have volleyball. And neither of us have time to date anyway, idiot!"

Tadashi and Tsukki couldn't help but snicker at that. Kageyama sent a weary glance their way, but he was quickly distracted by more of Hinata’s shenanigans. 

“It might be nice to date someone,” Yachi mused, tilting her head back and letting her eyes gaze up. “I mean, I don’t have time for it either, but I sort of want my first kiss before I graduate.”

“Right?!” Hinata exclaimed as Kageyama landed another attack. The two brawled for a moment but Hinata eluded Kageyama once more as he added, “Stingyshima and Yamaguchi are too lucky!”

Tadashi laughed brightly and resisted the urge to correct Hinata. Technically, he’d had his first kiss, but the whole experience was rather traumatizing and he’d like to forget it happened at all. 

A girl named Muzioka had confessed to Tadashi during the spring of their second year. Tadashi had accepted, surprised she was actually vying for him instead of Tsukki, and went on a few dates with her before the monumental occasion occurred. 

It wasn’t anything special. They’d been walking home together after school and Tadashi, ever the gentlemen, had asked he could kiss her. She’d tentatively said yes and allowed him to kiss her right then and there. 

There wasn’t… well…  _ anything _ . 

Books and mangas always talked about how his heart was supposed to beat heavy against his chest and butterflies were supposed to prance around in his stomach and he was supposed to feel some sort of  _ something  _ during his first kiss. 

But he hadn’t. 

Tadashi had pulled away abruptly, only to see she was mirroring his own dissatisfaction. She swore it wasn’t his fault but he turned red anyways and profusely apologized for the whole situation. 

That was that. 

He’d walked her home and she said goodbye and texted later on to confirm that they’d broken up. 

Tsukki had been there when he’d received the message. He’d looked at Tadashi with careful eyes and didn’t say anything other than, “She wasn’t that pretty anyways.” 

Tadashi had told Tsukki that he shouldn’t speak badly of people like that and Tsukki had corrected himself by saying, “You deserve someone better.”

He let the conversation drop there and went back to studying, but the words had already cemented in Tadashi’s mind. It was a tiny, insignificant spark of hope. A dangerous one at that, as Tadashi realized for the first time that he liked the way Tsukki’s curls dangled over his forehead when he looked down to study. There was also the way he pressed his lips together when he didn’t get a problem right; he scrunched them up and his features became all small and cute. And then there was the way that Tsukki pretended to not listen when Tadashi was speaking, but always managed to perfectly recall their conversations. 

Yeah… that was going to be a problem. 

Tadashi’s first break-up had been anticlimactic to say the least. When that new, forceful wave of feelings that Tadashi had no idea how to deal with surfaced, his emotions towards Muzioka faded quickly. She merely remained the person with whom he had shared his first kiss. Tadashi was okay with that outcome. 

Tsukki, on the other hand, landed himself a girlfriend during the winter of their second year. She was nice and smart and tall. Tadashi didn’t know much else about her. Tsukki didn’t talk about her. Tadashi didn’t ask. 

They’d broken up only a couple of months beforehand in March. Tadashi wasn’t there for the moment, but he knew it’d happened by the way Tsukki silently slipped back into his life. His return to their usual walks home from school and hang-out sessions on the weekends was welcomed, even if Tadashi never told him so. 

Truthfully, he thought their friendship would’ve faltered at least slightly whenever Tsukki returned. But apparently it takes a lot more than a couple of girlfriends to ruin a solid, established relationship from childhood. They wouldn’t break that easy. 

“Why do so many girls like stupid Bakayama and mean Jerkyshima,” Hinata growled to himself. He turned to Tadashi, eyes desperate. “I don’t get it!”

“Hinata, you’ll find someone,” Tadashi assured while Tsukki responded, “Maybe women would like you if you grew ten more centimeters.”

“Tsukki!” Tadashi complained, but the deed was done. Hinata’s jaw was dropping and Kageyama was stifling his laugh and Yachi was beginning to mediate between them and Tsukki was wearing that shit-eating grin he only got when he messed with Hinata. 

Their light-hearted argument continued on as it always did until someone was able to shift away the topic to something less contentious. Tadashi smiled and laughed with his fellow third years, relishing in their happy moments. 

Adolescence was fleeting. Tadashi would simply have to soak up all of the moments he had left. And while the future was uncertain, with a million different things that could go wrong at any minute, Tadashi had the grit to simply enjoy what was happening in front of him. Yachi’s cute worries. Hinata’s bad jokes. Kageyama’s unintentionally funny comments. Tsukki’s sly, hidden grins. 

Even if there was less than a year left of high school, Tadashi was somehow okay with that fact. He’d simply enjoy the time they had together, knowing that they wouldn’t ever really separate. 

There was a part of Tadashi, after all, that had changed when he entered Karasuno his first year. The friendships he’d made and maintained were precious to him; he wouldn’t let a simple thing like graduation steal that away. 

“This is us,” Tadashi announced, pointing down the route him and Tsukki always took to get home. 

“Get home safe!” Yachi called back, while Hinata waved only to be attacked once more by Kageyama. 

Tadashi let out a sigh, knowing there was nothing he could really do to curtail their antics, and followed after Tsukki. He’d already put his headphones around his neck, but not on his ears yet. A perfect sign that he wanted to hear whatever Tadashi had to say that night. 

“It’s really warming up,” Tadashi commented, pulling on the collar of his shirt. “Hopefully the weather isn’t too hot during the Inter-High.”

“Mmm.”

Okay, maybe Tsukki  _ didn’t  _ want to talk that night. That was okay. Tadashi could always talk to him tomorrow. They had the rest of the year to cycle through Tadashi’s endless rambling thoughts. And… well… if Tadashi wasn’t getting ahead of himself… and somehow got lucky… maybe even longer. 

He felt lucky as is. Not many childhood friendships lasted all the way through high school. Him and Tsukki were different though. They’d make it through high school and through the rest of their lives together. 

They continued walking along as the cicadas sang their early summer song. Tadashi wasn’t naive enough to over-romanticize the summer, but there was a certain serenity in the comfort of walking the same path everyday. They’d carved it themselves years and years ago, when they’d go searching for frogs during the day and fireflies at night. 

Almost like the universe could read his mind, out of the bushes from along the sidewalk jumped a little green frog. Tadashi immediately paused in his tracks, stopping to look back at Tsukki with big eyes. 

Tsukki let out a huffed laugh. He gazed over at Tadashi with lazy eyes. “I’m guessing—”

“Yes, please!” Tadashi cut in, grinning all big and happy. 

Tsukki snorted before shrugging off his bags and handing them to Tadashi. He stood by, bouncing on his toes, and watched as Tsukki snatched up the frog before it even knew what was coming.

“Here,” Tsukki said, exchanging the little creature for their bags. Tadashi clutched the frog close and provided little strokes on its forehead as it calmed down in his hands. 

Tadashi had always liked catching frogs and bugs and other little things but was notoriously infamous for his failed attempts to do so. Kei, on the other hand, acted like he hated the bugs but in actuality wouldn’t hurt a fly. He always caught them for Tadashi, despite his protests about how gross they were. Even as they’d grown older, he always managed to make time to be childish with Tadashi when a frog hopped its way down the road. 

Tadashi was well aware of the looming threat of growing up. A simple frog was only a momentary distraction for what truly lay ahead. Adulthood, although it was imminent, brought forth a new wave of anxieties that Tadashi wasn’t ready to face yet. 

He had been too young to realize how little adolescence he had left.

They veered off the road in order to drop by a creek bank and deposit the frog back into its natural habitat. Tadashi gave it a silly little salute. Tsukki attempted to stifle his laugh. 

“Can I stay over tonight?” Tsukki asked once they were back on the course home. 

“Yeah, my mom isn’t home though, so you’ll have to deal with my cooking,” Tadashi teased. 

Tsukki rolled his eyes. “I guess that’ll do.”

Tadashi laughed and told him a story about his meeting with the female volleyball captain from earlier in the day. And although Tsukki may have acted like he didn’t care, he still offered input where he could with chide remarks and witty quips. 

Once back at Tadashi’s apartment, they washed up and ended up preparing dinner together. It was a simple curry that Tsukki took over in preparing considering Tadashi’s cooking skills were practically nonexistent. He cleaned up after though, considering it  _ was  _ his apartment, and they got to work in Tadashi’s bedroom. 

Tsukki put on one of the playlists they’d created together specifically for studying and they both let the quiet beats fill up the place. Though they could speak like normal people, they’d come to realize that they studied best when they passed notes instead of voicing their concerns. The only occasional noise came from Tadashi’s breathy laugh and the sound of Tsukki unwrapping strawberry candies.

That was, until the music on their playlist seemed to fade away and Tsukki stopped writing in his notebook. There was a lengthy pause in which the world remained how it always did, before it began anew. 

“I didn’t, you know,” Tsukki said quietly. 

Tadashi looked up from his homework. Tsukki’s eyes were still on his own book, but his lip was trembling to give away all the pent-up nervous energy that was building inside. 

“Didn’t what?” Tadashi asked. 

Tsukki didn’t react much to the question. Flipping a page, he simply continued, “I didn’t kiss her.”

“Oh.”

The stagnant air in the room became sweltering. Tadashi slowly closed his book, flinching as it made a solid thud against the table. 

Was his heart beating faster than usual? Were his hands getting sweatier? Oh  _ god,  _ why was he getting so anxious? 

_ Because you have feelings for your best friend,  _ the rational part of Tadashi said, even if he would never admit to the fact; because he honestly didn’t know if that’s why he wanted to stare at Tsukki every possible moment he was given and bask in the beauty of his best friend. 

Because there laid the issue. 

_ Best friend.  _

Childhood best friends, at that. 

Tsukki had been the one to establish their friendship in the first place, all those years ago when he’d invited Tadashi to keep playing volleyball with him. A part of Tadashi would forever feel indebted for that initial step; there was no way he could ever repay Tsukki for his initial kindness.

Still, Tadashi was frightened for whatever the future held. Because if he messed this up, this perfect little friendship that was so dear to his fragile heart, he didn’t know if he would be able to cope.

He had no idea how to deal with his own feelings, let alone the fear that Tsukki may never return them. 

Regardless, a bit of courage wrapped itself around Tadashi’s heart. He let out a breath, steady and firm, before he spoke up. 

“I mean…” Tadashi hadn’t really planned out his words, but he exposed the truthful part of himself as he went on. “You don’t really need to kiss someone in order to be in a relationship… if that’s what you’re worried about. Or, I guess a relationship isn’t defined by a kiss? Don’t feel bad about it! I mean… ah… I only kissed Muzioka once! Um…”

Tsukki looked up finally. Tadashi couldn’t quite distinguish that treacherous look in his eyes. 

“Did you want to have your first kiss before you graduated, too?” Tadashi decided to ask. He mentally slapped himself for sounding so  _ naive.  _

Tsukki pressed his lips together. “I’m not particularly interested in relationships. Physicality is merely a byproduct that shouldn’t be based in affection.”

“Right…” Tadashi swallowed. He wasn’t following. 

“But… I suppose it’s not an awful thing.”

“Right.”

They stared at each other, gazes burning into infinity. A question sat on the tip of Tadashi’s tongue and threatened to spill. He wondered if Tsukki felt the same way. 

It wasn’t a new question, but now it was more present than ever and Tadashi didn’t know what to do. How long had he truly dreamed of golden eyes and ivory skin? Of running his fingers through blonde curls and learning about every centimeter of Tsukki, in and out?

“Tsukki…” Tadashi’s voice was small. Tsukki stared at him anyways, leaning forward to nod him on even without actually moving. “Do you… do you want to kiss me?”

Tadashi began to retract his question, to blow it off as some stupid suggestion and something they really shouldn’t be doing as friends, but Tsukki was already crossing around the table and Tadashi’s words were swallowed by a part of soft lips and the distinct bump of a nose. 

It was just a peck, really. Tsukki pulled away almost immediately with red cheeks and a stuttered apology. 

Tadashi took one look at the blubbering mess in front of him and began to laugh. “I’m sorry, Tsukki,” he tried to say between short breaths but as Tsukki became more embarrassed by the minute, Tadashi’s laugh became fuller and fuller. 

It was sort of freeing to see Tsukki make such a novice mistake. His inexperience was adorable (not that Tadashi was much of an expert, but the attempt still made him feel all bubbly and warm). 

“It’s not funny,” Tsukki argued. Tadashi only laughed more. 

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not—”

Tadashi took his opportunity and scooted closer to finally wrap his hand around Tsukki’s cheek to kiss him once more. He tasted like strawberry candies and something else that was sweet that Tadashi couldn’t quite place. 

Although Tsukki’s lips were hesitant, they were ultimately softer than Tadashi could have ever anticipated and the feeling was effortlessly intimate.

Tsukki didn’t pull away. In fact, he ineptly worked his lips against Tadashi’s and pulled him in to thread his fingers through the strands of his long hair. Tadashi liked the ripples it sent through his body as he shivered under the touch. He relished in the feeling and felt Tsukki give him a little smile. 

It could have ended there. A single peck paired with a prolonged full kiss. They could have never even spoken of it again and gone about their daily routines, hoping to regain some semblance of their normal friendship back before it all fell apart. Tadashi could have pulled away, accepted the small awkward period that would have followed, and moved on. 

But they weren’t destined for that. They were destined for bigger and better things, Tadashi determined, because he’d never experienced anything like this before. The warm sensations that coursed through his stomach were pleasantly welcomed. He could practically soak in the bliss, content to spend the rest of his life with Tsukki’s hands running through his hair. 

And although Tadashi initially thought he was meant for other things, the truth was him and Tsukki were always destined to end up like this. A simple kiss was inevitable from the moment their two paths had collided. They were magnetic stars, tied together by forces unseen but ultimately unstoppable. There was no altering their initial connection, but what laid after could remain a mystery. 

For now, Tadashi leaned into the kiss and let himself enjoy the fleeting moments of his adolescence.

And thus began their history of wholly ruinous encounters. 

\---

“And starting with the play-offs, we will unveil the uniforms with the additive sponsorship brandings. A promotional shoot is currently scheduled for October 26th, and the photos will debut the following week. We’ll be requiring a two-person team…”

Trying his best not to completely zone out, Tadashi readjusts his posture as the Frogs PR manager continued her presentation. It’s not her fault he can’t pay attention; she’s actually doing quite a good job at explaining the next steps in their plan, but Tadashi is too wrapped up in his own thoughts to focus on his work. 

While it’s easier sometimes for Tadashi to focus all of his attention towards the menial things in life that don’t end up mattering, the adverse effect is that his brain will sometimes remind him of everything he’s done wrong so that even his distractions are ineffective. 

Issue is, Tadashi’s done a lot of wrong things. Like sleeping with Tsukishima last weekend, for example. 

He curses internally, reminding himself of Tsukishima’s ashamed eyes from the bar in order to quiet the thoughts that lingered on Tsukishima’s silent but not unnoticed aftercare.

_ God,  _ he’s an idiot. And while he may not regret what happened, he can still admonish himself for allowing it to occur in the first place. For allowing… well… really any of it to start. That day Tsukishima had kissed him in his bedroom should have been the end of whatever their relationship was. Friendship was a much easier thing to keep under control. 

But stolen kisses in the locker room? Making out when Tadashi’s apartment was empty? Quick pecks when no one was watching? Going further and further until they can no longer go back?

Yeah… they should have prevented that all from the beginning. Before it was even an inkling of a thought in Tadashi’s hormone-driven teenage brain. Truly, he should have never hoped for anything more with Tsukishima because that man was someone who gave nothing in return. No amount of aftercare or offering a place to spend the night would salvage the rotten personality he actually possessed. The personality Tadashi had created and encouraged by allowing Tsukishima to act as he pleased. No matter how many times Tadashi roped him into caring or exerting effort or doing more, he always returned to the same apathetic man who had never given a damn about Tadashi in the first place. It was all Tadashi’s fault. It always had been. And if Tsukishima were to ever change then—

“Tadashi-kun?”

Tadashi blinks a few times, zoning back in.

Meeting room. People are filing out. The speaker has concluded her presentation. Aiko is standing over him. She looks worried. 

“Are you alright?” Aiko asks, all sweet and innocent because she, at least, is a good-hearted person at her core. “I think I might have dozed off during that meeting too, no offense to Hana-chan.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Tadashi says, standing up and brushing down his suit. He hopes his appearance isn’t too haphazard. 

“Mind if I walk you out?”

“Not at all.”

They follow the other members of the meeting out of the conference room and head toward those familiar doors once more. Tadashi’s numb to the whole process now, seeing as half of his weeks are spent trying to avoid another run-in with one of the players. Tadashi genuinely likes the work, he just wishes there wasn’t so much baggage to go along with it. 

Although, even that is his fault. An adult conversation, one where he actually  _ talks  _ to Tsukishima would probably clear up most of their issues. 

Aiko’s practically shaking beside him. She’s all twitchy and nervous, eyes flicking up to Tadashi every few moments. 

“Actually, Tadashi-kun, will you run up to office with me for just a moment?” Aiko blurts, her voice rough. 

He eyes her desperation. “Of course.”

The walk to her office is even quieter than before. The ascension up those grand entry staircases indeed leads them back to an open office area that’s much more freeing than Tadashi’s office. Rather than cubicles, the dedicated Frogs marketing team works at long, collaborative tables where coworkers chat lively about things they’re actually passionate about. 

Aiko, however, has her own office at the end of the space. She ushers Tadashi inside before closing the door, even though the walls to her office are just glass windows. 

Aiko shuffles to her desk before retrieving a green pass, nearly identical to the ones Tadashi was able to use the other night. The difference is there’s only one. 

“What’s this?” Tadashi asks as Aiko hands it over. 

“My extra badge,” Aiko explains. They both hover over the edge of her desk, half-sitting side by side. “I know your company has a few passes, but I figured since you liked volleyball and all you should have something a little bit more official. And it’s good for all Frogs games, not just the exhibitions like those passes… Kanji-kun told me about how you came to the game and that’s really cool and I would love to go to a game with you sometime! Or anywhere, really.”

Aiko loops her fingers through her hair. Tadashi knows what’s coming. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, Tadashi-kun, will you please go on a date with me?”

And there it is. 

_ An escape route.  _

Tadashi is excruciatingly cognizant of how awful it is. Of how truly  _ horrible  _ of a person he is for even considering the idea because if Tadashi is anything, he is not someone who uses others for his personal gain. Or at least he didn’t use to be. 

Aiko is a beautiful, nice woman. She deserves to be in a relationship with someone who wants to date her because they have no ulterior motives. She should be with a man much better than Tadashi seeing how he’s subpar in more ways than one.

Thing is, Tadashi wants to. They get along great and there’s still so much more to learn. He thinks that maybe, possibly, he could be happy with her. 

Isn’t that what’ll make him happy? A wife and kids? A girlfriend he can show off to Yachi and his mother and see how they dote over their relationship?

Yes. This is right. This is what Tadashi wants. 

“I’d love to,” Tadashi answers, voice saccharine but tongue oddly bitter. He gives her a smile regardless, adding on, “Only if you want to… I mean…”

“I want to!” Aiko assures, nodding her head. “I really do!”

“I do too.”

Aiko grins at him, unmistakably genuine, and leads him out her office door with promises to talk more and plan some big date and Tadashi laughs at her whimsy. He gives her a wave off, and once the door closes he can clearly see Aiko jump up and down a little before reaching for her phone and excitedly calling someone. While her office mates give Tadashi a tiny smirk as he passes by, all of them apparently aware of the whole situation, the most Tadashi can manage to give back is a pressed-lip smile. 

He descends the staircase, maybe a little lighter on his feet despite the heavy thoughts weighing on his mind. Maybe saying yes was a good idea after all… 

Tadashi readjusts his tie, rounding the corner towards the exit. 

_ It’ll be fine,  _ he convinces himself.  _ It will all be fine.  _

“Yamaguchi.”

_ It’s not fine.  _

Tadashi doesn’t even need to turn to know Tsukishima’s staring him down like some silent hawk, ready to pick apart its prey. But Tadashi does anyways to find Tsukishima dressed for practice with a grim look upon his face. 

“Hi,” Tadashi says. 

Tsukishima looks around, checking to see if anyone’s nearby to capture their impending collision. Even though they stand a few feet apart, truly there could not be more distance between their hearts. 

“Don’t you think…” Tsukishima sighs and rubs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know…”

“Did you want something from me?” Tadashi asks. 

The real question is, what does Tadashi want from Kei? Surely it’s not meaningless sex or awkward conversations or avoiding one another out of convenience. 

Tsukishima’s about to say something when he pauses, looking back towards the gym. “We’ll talk later,” he promises, before shuffling off. 

Tadashi wants to scream. 

Why,  _ why  _ are they like this?

Why can’t they talk now and get everything out and move on? Isn’t that what’s best? Isn’t that what’s right?

_ Why can’t they communicate? _

\---

That weekend, Tadashi goes on a date with Aiko. 

They have a lovely time together. They go to a nice Italian restaurant, spending the evening talking about whatever they’d like. Their conversation flows easily, Tadashi finds, even if he’s often on the receiving end of their talks most of the time. He doesn’t mind listening. The dynamic is new, sure, but it is pleasant. Yes, very pleasant. 

Outside of the business sphere, Aiko is even prettier. She wears a flattering dress and has her hair done up. Tadashi compliments her appearance and she compliments his. It’s all civil. It’s all nice. 

At the end of the evening, Tadashi walks her back to her apartment. She smiles at him all prettily and Tadashi kisses her goodnight. 

He doesn’t feel anything.

\---

Cubicle after cubicle after cubicle. 

Tadashi’s main workplace is horribly dull, unlike the fluid, even fun environment of the Frogs. His space is sparsely decorated so he doesn’t have much to distract himself with. Really, all he should be doing at work is focusing. He shouldn’t let his mind wander off and think about those unpleasant things. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite little salaryman!”

“Hi, Morikatsu,” Tadashi says, and keeps his focus on his computer. 

Morikatsu doesn’t take the clear indicator and strolls inside his cubicle anyways, leaning against the desk until Tadashi’s forced to interact with him. 

“Have a good weekend?” He gives Tadashi a wink. “Heard ya landed a date with that Aiko girl. Nice going, Tada-kun! She’s super pretty.”

Tadashi rolls his eyes. Morikatsu rambles. 

“Ya know, when we went to that big meeting the other day, I ended up running into one of the players for the Frogs. And I mean like,  _ literally  _ ran into. We both fell, and I was freaking out because the guy was  _ giant  _ and I thought he was gonna be mean, but he was super nice and apologized to me! Anywho, we started talking and we got on the topic of work, and I was like, ‘Oh I work with Yamaguchi!’ And he was like, ‘That’s crazy! I used to play against him in high school!’ And I was like, ‘No way!’ And he was like, ‘Yeah totally! Yamaguchi’s the nicest guy ever. He’s super passionate about volleyball and was always a ton of fun to talk to.’ And I was like, ‘Are you talking about Yamaguchi Tadashi?’ And he was like, ‘Yeah, who else would I be talking about.’”

Tadashi represses the urge to interrupt. 

“I was just so confused,” Morikatsu continues, “because, no offense Tada-kun, but I’ve never seen you super passionate about… anything. Like, nothing. Ever. And then Kogane kept going on about how you were so cool and you had this awesome… serve? Is that what they’re called? Doesn’t matter, because apparently you even went to high school with one of the players on the Frogs and some guys that went to the Olympics? Dude! That’s crazy and super cool! Why don’t you ever talk about that kind of stuff? It always seems like you’re so…” 

Morikatsu motions to Tadashi entirely, like that offers a justification. “I don’t you’re like closed off? If that makes sense? Definitely not passionate.”

Tadashi sucks in a breath between his teeth. “I’ve changed a lot since then,” he says as his measly explanation. 

Morikatsu snorts. “Well,  _ duh,  _ but I would love to see you all fired up and going! It’d be kinda cool.”

“I don’t know why Koganegawa would tell you all of that,” Tadashi sighs. “It’s not like any of it matters.”

“‘Course it does, man!” Morikatsu then pauses to raise his eyebrow suggestively. “Unless something even crazier happened in college? Oh my god, you’re probably friends with some prince or billionaire or someone. Billionaire prince maybe?”

Tadashi gives him a look. 

“Come  _ on,  _ what’s so bad about the Frogs, huh? I mean, you could have rejected Suzuki or said the plan didn’t work out. If it didn’t work, it didn’t work. You’re the one that got us the deal in the first place so obviously you wanted to do it, right? I mean you’re friends with Koganegawa and all them so I don’t know why you’re so like  _ meh  _ about it.”

Morikatsu, for all he’s worth, is actually right. It would have been so easy to stop this all from starting once more. If he hadn’t reached out to the Frogs promotional team, Tadashi wouldn’t be back to feeling this… well…  _ wrong.  _

The issue isn’t the Frogs. It’s not Koganegawa for speaking up. It’s not even Tsukishima, who has drawn him in once more. 

No, the issue is Tadashi. He allowed himself to foolishly believe in fate. He allowed himself to pine, and pine, and pine, until he had nothing left to give. He allowed himself to trust Tsukishima would be there for him, from childhood and beyond.

Tadashi is done allowing himself the freedom of falling in love with Tsukishima Kei again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> morikatsu x koganegawa forever ❤️❤️ from now on the story will only focus on them lol 
> 
> anyways come hang out w me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/copyrightings_)!


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